The case of the girl on the run
by Freewaygirl
Summary: AU England has changed. James Moriarty has taken over the country with the help of Irene Adler and Sebastian Moran. Sherlock and John live in hiding until Mycroft wants them to find Isabel Williams, a young woman who stole from the government. She keeps a dark secret...dystopian universe, no Johnlock. Rated T for the moment, maybe I'll change it.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, this is my very first Sherlock fan fiction.

I hope you like and enjoy it a bit. It's AU and I'm going to try to keep Sherlock as far as possible in character.

Thanks to the lovely daisherz365 who was my Beta and had a look on this :)

Can't wait for all your reviews

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, but Stephen Moffat and Mark Gatiss do :)**

1.

The night was falling upon London. It wrapped up London in her black coat.

Exactly at this moment a young woman ran through the streets and was pursued by several black dressed men. She ran fast and tried to shake off her pursuers. The noise of her feet hammered on the hard subsoil of the street down.

In her head was pure fear.

What she had done had not been clever and, on the other hand, it was her only chance of a new life.

Behind her she could hear the men that her followed always getting closer.

„Give it up, young lady!", one of them shouted.

No! She was not able, not here, not now, not again!

„If you stay where you are, there will be nothing to fear!", screamed another male voice. They would do anything, just to catch her.

Her name was Isabel and she was in up to her neck in trouble.

She hurried around a corner and into a lane. While she ran Isabel desperately tried to calm her breathing. Everything the men cat-called was only for one reason: to arrest her. Even if it was a lie.

She could hear her pursuers from afar meaning that she had to cook up something fast.

Luckily a fire escape caught her eye after a few seconds. Indeed, it wasn't let down yet. Isabel had to contrive something. Once more she looked around and discovered a dumpster which stood directly under the fire escape. Quickly Isabel approached to it, climbed on it and lowered the ladders. She just wanted to breathe deeply and climb up when she heard voices behind herself. Quickly Isabel turned her head and saw that the chasing pack were with her in the lane.

Shit, Isabel thought and hurried up ladders . Even as she went to put her foot on the third rung, somebody grabbed her ankle and pulled her down. Only scarcely did Isabel get to hold onto the railing of the ladder.

„Gotcha!" the guy hissed.

„No chance!" Isabel snarled back and attempted to kick at the guy's face and was even successful.

He expelled a ringing shout and pressed his hands on his face. At this moment Isabel escaped. Like a cat she climbed up the fire escape to the next rooftop.

Up here Isabel took her time to breathe deeply, then she had one more look down and had to realize that another pursuer was close at her heels and climbed up to the flat roof.

This time Isabel was really in the trap, unless she would find a way from the roof, to rescue herself. Her feet carried her to the edge where she looked in the depth. Under her yawned the abyss whose ground was the street.

„Damn, why does it always rain on me?" murmured Isabel.

However then even as she wanted to turn away, she saw something that calmed her: under her there was a small balcony.

Isabel thought: with a specific jump she could escape. She felt that beside the rain now also several drops of sweat ran down her face. If she jumped, she had only one chance, only one and if Isabel messed it up, she had to suffer the consequences . Her breath went faster.

„Now pretty one, I guess you are trapped! " Isabel heard a voice behind her.

„Don't think so..." she grinned and then jumped in the depth.

And she fell and fell, and believed that she just missed her aim.

Then, however, her feet touched the floor of the balcony.

„Okay." , Isabel gasped and eyed briefly up to the roof. The type looked down the edge and seemed to curse. Isabel lifted her hand to a mocking farewell and then ran down the stairs to the street.

Isabel wiped her free hand over her wet face.

Then she slowly went down the street with the look to the ground she inhaled deeply and without paying attention if she barged against someone. She reached in her trouser pocket.

Her small burglary in the government headquarters had not been as successful as she had hoped for.

Walking in had not been the problem for her: slipping through a security sluice here because there was no burglar alarm and she had been in the heart of security of London.

Nevertheless: it had been difficult to have a look in her files. For quite some time she was kept under surveillance. A majority of the London underworld was on her tail.

Since the coup d'état she was on the run.

Isabel never asked for this mess but after the landslide victory the entire country had changed within a few moments. For five years Isabel had to look over her shoulder when she was on the street, in constant fear to get caught.

Active surveillance everywhere. People who suddenly disappeared without leaving a trace.

mysterious deaths among the opponents members of the new government and many people who had been moved into resistance.

Slowly she pulled a flash device from her pocket and turned it in her fingers to and fro.

Maybe this was her ticket out of this chaos.

Maybe she could be able to buy herself free, finally.

Stolen security data which the owner absolutely would want to have back.

If necessary she negotiated.

The new system had taken away nearly everything from her: her physical intactness, her pride, a part of her soul, the trust in other people and her family.

From one day to the next they had been torn apart.

Her parents had been already arrested as members of the opposition. They had been murdered as far as Isabel knew.

At the age of seventeen Isabel had been imprisoned in an education programme for juveniles.

The memories of this time were always with her, they never left her and they refused her a quiet sleep.

Isabel still wandered through the empty streets of London.

A curfew had been arranged for the nights.

She trembled a little: the cold crept in her bones and the warmth dwindled from her muscles.

Isabel was sure that she had to find a hiding place for the night.

From her pocket she pulled her mobile phone out. Reckless of course but she had no better plan.

Isabel rapidly dialed a number and soon she could hear the dialling tone.

„Hello?", asked a male voice at the other end of the line.

„Eric? This is Izzie, I need your help.", she said fast.

„Let me guess, you need a place for the night.", noted Eric and sighed lightly.

„To tell you the truth I really thought your cellar was very comfortable last time.", Isabel laughed in her cellphone.

„They already have a down on me because we were friends in school and so the police has already paid me a visit this afternoon! I do not believe that my flat is the safest place for you to stay at the moment.", he objected.

„If you do not want to help me just say it, but I should submit that my butt is the most wanted in town since the last thirty minutes.", Isabel answerded.

„What have you done?", Eric grunted at the other end of the phone.

„I have broken into Mycroft Holmes' security control center and I am sure that he has already put all his security guards on me, which is why I think that in this case sleeping under a bridge is even more dangerous than another night in a cellar where they have already looked.", Isabel explained and tried give her voice an innocent sound.

„Are you out of your mind?!", he nearly screamed.

„Just calm down, everything is fine.", Isabel wanted to soothe him.

„Excuse me, but you just told me you stole from one of the mightiest men in the country. I guess it's normal that I'm freaking out!", Eric yelled at her.

„I got what I needed and escaped. Well maybe I punched one of them... ", she answered him.

„You're screwed. If they find you and whatever you've stolen the least of your problems will be that you have no place to sleep for the night.", he growled.

„Come on! Don't make it so easy for them to catch me!", Isabel snapped.

„You messed with the iceman, Izzie! We're talking about a man who knows no mercy when someone tries to screw him over! No one is cheating him, not even you.", he sounded desperate and also worried.

„Don't worry. I don't think they know where to look for me, but being out here puts me in terrible danger! You know there's no other way out for me! ", she was as desperate as Eric was.

Her voice faltered a little because she was afraid Eric would not want to help her.

„Sorry Izzie, I know that the last years were really hard for you and maybe you are right but who tells me that the police does not turn up here again to arrest us both?", he seemed to be nervous.

„Nobody, but sleeping on the street is even more dangerous for me at the moment. Then they'll arrest me within the next hour. Please, Eric, it will be the last time.", she begged him, trying to speak steadily, there was a little tremble in her voice.

„I am always too soft with you but you're my friend. However hurry up because a police car is patrolling every ten minutes. I do not want to know what you have pinched...", he sighed.

„The less you know the better...", Isabel shrugged,

„See you later.", then her friend hung up and she put her phone back in her pocket.

The way to Eric's apartment would take her at least half an hour, especially when she had to poke along dark lanes.

Mycroft Holmes stood at the scene of the crime: an actually well secure server room in which many important data were stored.

As usual, he wore a sophisticated tailor-made suit and held an umbrella in his right hand.

His face showed none of his emotions, which was why people called him 'the iceman'.

„Would you like to comment?", he asked the responsible watchman.

„Sir, she was really skillful! My men lost her outside on the street.", the man admitted and shook his head.

„So? Really skillful... I must not explain to you what will happen if this theft becomes public? The national security is in danger and I must not remind you of what will happen if _he_ comes to this knowledge...", Mycrofts voice sounded irritated however, quietly.

„Please, sir, can we not sort this incident differently? The cameras took several pictures of her, I've got the pictures here!", the scared guard thrusted some black-and-white photos into Mycroft Holmes' hand.

Eagerly interested the iceman examined them.

„Are you in earnest?", he perked up his eyebrows.

„I swear to you, Mr. Holmes that this is the young woman we have pursued! The pictures show her during the burglary!", assured the man.

Mycroft shook his head because what he saw and what had happened mismatched: on the one hand there was the crime which had run off nearly smoothly for the thief. But the photo also showed an attractive, young woman. Her hair was short and dark and with the look in the camera a pair of dark eyes glared at him. She was too pretty to be so clever, he decided fast. Moreover, he recognised her immediately. Really he had seen her face already in his data bank.

An extremely rebellious young woman that no one had been able to tame.

„Which data did she get possesion of?", he asked.

„Those of the education programmes and the re-education measures, sir.", the man looked contritely at him.

„That will not go any further! I will take care of this unpleasant affair. No word to anybody and tell DI Lestrade he should not look for her. Hand the video recordings over to me and advise all involved people to be quiet about the incident! Are we clear?", growled Mycroft and turned round and he put the photos of the young woman in the inside pocket of his jacket.

„Of course, sir. But what will you do now?", the security man asked his boss scaredly while he turned around and walked down the hall.

„This is none of your concern. Removing the hole in the system would be a good start/ Nevertheless, we do not want something like this to happen again, do we?.", his voice sounded dangerously quiet.

„Of course not, sir.", then the distraught man went to the work.

On his way out Mycroft Holmes organized his thoughts. The girl got him in hot water and she would absolutely not want to get caught. She would hide herself during the next days or she would use a disguise.

He sighed.

Heads would literally roll if his boss found out about this. His head.

Now Mycroft's the biggest interest was getting the data back and to his displeasure there was only one person all over London who worked more efficient than the police.

By now he could imagine the face of mummy's boy: the blue eyes gleaming, a venomous smile on the lips. The case in itself would presumably bore him, but it would be a welcome variety for him.

Thanks to the new system he had to keep himself hidden, even if London's complete population knew that Sherlock Holmes' had never left 221 B Baker Street or disappeared in the underground. Instead, he was leading the New Scotland Yard in a merry dance and he enjoyed it.

Yes, Mycroft Holmes needed the help of his younger brother whether he liked it or not.


	2. Chapter 2

So this is chapter 2 than, I had a lot of fun while I wrote it and I hope you like it (had to imagine future interactions between Sherlock and Izzie :) )

There is some John and Sherlock interaction in the chapter .I appreciate any kind of reviews or comments so please write what you think about it.

Special thanks to daisherz365 who was my Beta :)

Enjoy chapter two :)

**I don't own ****anything except of Isabel and Eric :)**

**2.**

Pistol-shots resounded through the halls of 221 B Baker Street.

„Oh John, is he in a bad mood again?", Mrs. Hudson asked while she put on the kettle to make tea.

„He is bored. You know him: if he is without a case, he behaves like a very discontent three-year-old.", John answered when the window panes started trembling after another shot.

„He has been like this now for nearly three weeks. I had hoped that he would run out of ammunition or that he would forget about the other mad ideas he had lately... like beekeeping in my laundry room...", Mrs. Hudson shook her head and sighed.

„Believe me, nobody would be happier than me if he was stopping this nonsense. The other night he woke me in the middle of the night because he wanted me to listen to his new composition for his violin. Sherlock sleeps little, broods a lot in his mind palace and when he is done, he is usually more frustrated than before or he has new, mad ideas.", John looked anxiously to the ceiling where the lamp swayed dangerously.

„Is there nothing else that he could do? Does he really need to stay inside all the time?", the old lady asked John.

„You mean if he is able to solve cases like we did before? Like walking around in London? Somehow I wish that was possible, but there are still Moriarty's henchmen who would love to kill the world's only consulting detective. Lately he gives himself the pleasure of researching the newspapers for cases New Scotland Yard could not solve and then he sends the solution of the case via email to all reporters in town, only to let the police look like a bunch of badly qualified mall cops.", the Doctor had to smile while he said it. Sherlock couldn't keep his deduction skills under cover and he hated the incompetence the police showed these days. To Sherlock it was obvious that they did not want to solve crimes. They rather wanted to conceal their own crimes.

„But this is very dangerous, isn't it? If they arrest him...", the landlady laid a hand over her mouth.

„Now... he is not an IT specialist as far as I know, however, he is able to produce a secure connection without outside assistance. At the moment most of the reporters are thinking, he is sitting in North Korea in an atomic shelter, I suppose.", answered John and chuckled slightly.

„Oh boys, I don't like it when you are playing such dangerous games...", Mrs Hudson was seriously in sorrows while the the tea piled up.

„Mrs Hudson, don't look at me that way, I am truly innocent. I only fear Sherlock will be busted in the near future if he doesn't hold himself back.", warily John looked up to the ceiling again.

Since the last shot some minutes had passed.

„What's wrong my dear?", Mrs Hudson wanted to know and passed John a cup of Earl Grey.

„It is a bit too quiet, don't you think?", he put the cup on the culinary table.

„Oh John, he wouldn't have...?", she laid the hand over her mouth.

„Whether he mourns now his old life or not, he couldn't pull that off...", laughed John and went out of the kitchen.

„I will look after him.", he rose up from his chair, left the kitchen and took the stairs to go to his best friend's room.

Over the last few months Sherlock seldom walked through the streets.

The election five years ago had made Moriarty into prime minister who transformed the whole country into a place of fear and terror. His first official act was to make sure of the fact that no-one could ever lift him from his comission.

At first everything stood the way it had been before , but bit by bit Moriarty had started to reform the country: registration of members of the opposition and a general working ban for them as long as they stuck to their political view. Many homeless disappeared in a quite mysterious manner . Homosexuals also started to disappear like people who openly expressed their opinion. It was said that there were prison camps in the country where those people were imprisoned and tortured. There had been some mysterious deaths among former companions of Moriarty and also in the rows of his opponents.

Young people, especially young girls, were put in education measures when they comitted a breach of the rules. In these institutions the government taught the inmates how to play by the rules and to behave as Moriarty wanted them to.

There were rumours about these facilities. Rumors like their only idea was to break the will of the children and do to them even worse. Many children of members of the opposition were accommodated there and when they returned, their eyes had been often empty and dead. Like they experienced the end of all times.

Furthermore there were the goon squads which Sebastian Moran led and also a dreaded unit of snipers. Only one wrong word on the street sufficed and in the evening Moran's men were on the doormat and made it clear through kicks and blows what they thought of it.

Sherlock had been deeply outraged when Moriarty won the election. In the beginning he tried to run things their usual way, walking around in his Belstaff coat and his blue scarf. But Sherlock had to admit that times changed and so he started to use a disguise. This had worked out well for a few months, until Sherlock had started messing with Sebastian Moran in broad daylight.

Moran was a scurrilous, coarse and in Sherlock's view a really silly man. It had been on a crime scene and Sherlock had not been able to resist the temptation when he noticed that Moran obviously drew the wrong conclusions. So he had predashed, had shown up the guy in front of everyone and had unmasked it, himself.

His luck was that many residents of London still seemed to like him, God knew why, and this protected him from being arrested.

Since then Sherlock Holmes had to stay in the rooms of 221B Baker Street. A simple precaution.

Who knew already which plan Moriarty and Moran would cook up against him to get rid of him...

Also the number of his friends had become less during the last years: Lestrade had had to continue teeth-gnashingly his job in Scotland Yard and played definitely for the wrong team now. He had family, it didn't matter how many times he and his wife had already separated.

His brother Mycroft became minister for security and took Moriartys cabinet appointment. He told Sherlock Moriarty had forced him to, but Sherlock didn't believed a word of his brother. Their meetings were from now on always particularly chilly and hostile, so that John always felt like a referee within a boxing match. Two heavyweights duking it out.

However, the most tragic case of loss had overtaken John and Sherlock when Molly Hooper had died. Her body was found in the Thames. Sherlock had examined when he and John went to say their goodbyes to Molly's body in the morgue that to judge by her injuries , she possibly fell into her murderers hands when she was on her way home. Sherlock believed the reason was to shut her up finally, to break her resistence and to show her that it would be better to join Moriarty's side. Her body showed many bruises and cuts, in addition she had had broken fingernails. Molly must have fought desperately for her life until the men overwhelmed the shy and mousy young pathologist. Both culprits abused Molly before they ended her life by a stab wound in her belly. Then they had thrown her in the Thames just like a piece of rubbish.

John remembered the picture of Molly lying on the stretcher in the morgue.

It had been one of the saddest moments in his life.

With Sherlock, he barely showed his grief even if John was sure, he saw some tears in the eyes of the consulting detective when he stood near the corpse. On top of that Sherlock had asked his best friend only to give him one last moment with the body.

Through the small window in the door John had observed how his friend had bent down to the ear of the dead to whisper something to her.

When he ask the question what it had been, John had received no answer, he had only received a head-shaking. Presumably this would always remain a secret between Sherlock and Molly.

John assumed Sherlock nevertheless, might have liked her a little more .

Of course he would never have wanted to admit this, but he didn't need to because the sad music he played on his violin for days made it definitely clear.

Molly's corpse was burnt and both men decided to scatter her ashes on the roof of St. Barts. She truly would have liked this.

Slowly John Watson entered Sherlock's sitting room. The yellow Smiley on the wall had some bullet holes more and some of the cushions had bit the dust. Feathers hurtled through the air. Shards of a vase lay on the carpet .

Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.

„Sherlock, this is not the best moment to play hide and seek right after you nearly disassembled your living room and have given us a fright! I guess Mrs Hudson is going to be really angry.", shouted John irritated.

There was no answer.

„Come on! I know you hatched something again!", he shouted further and stepped forward into the room and went in the direction of the fireplace where the skull stood on the mantelshelf.

„Then I'll take the skull!", believed John with a shrug and reached for it.

Behind him it rumbled: „NOT THE SKULL!"

Sherlock stood there in his pyjamas and his blue dressing-gown.

„ Why not?", grinned the doctor.

„With whom should I talk about my cases and explain my deductions?", shouted the consulting detective resentful.

„You have no cases. For a change you could dress rationally and come down to us, Mrs Hudson has made tea and she would be absolutely glad to see a sulky Detective in her kitchen.", sighed John and put the skull back to its place.

„Ridiculousl! She does not want my experiments any more! Besides, I really liked the idea of producing honey. Extremely inspiring.", Sherlock thought aloud and stroked his dark curls.

„She didn't want your honey-experiment because you tried to convert her dryer into a beehive , you crazy idiot!", wheezed John.

„It was only an experiment. I am bored. I have no access to the police radio anymore, the newspapers hardly announce crimes. John I need a case! Today I nearly cleaned up!", he started to run up and down.

„When were the last time you took a shower?", John asked Sherlock when he caught his smell.

„My body hygiene is none of your interest , John!", hissed the detective.

„Your smell is really...interesting..and I have to smell it because I live here, so it is my business. Go and take a shower ...now!", John felt like a governess who tried to tame a stubborn child. His flood of words was interrupted by the ring of the phone.

Both men exchanged questioning looks and they hesitated. This could hardly mean good news these days.

„Oh boys, pick up the phone please!", Mrs Hudson yelled from downstairs.

It was John who answered the phone.

„Hello?", he asked in the earphone and his pupils widened.

„Anthea?! What do you … today? Now...well I am not sure whether he..., ah, already on his way?! Alright, I will tell him. Are we in trouble?", John looked to Sherlock, who listened carefully.

„Not... it's personal then. Okay...",he hung up the phone.

John knew that he did not need to say anything: Sherlock had already made his conclusions.

„Mycroft is paying a visit for tea, how unpredictable.", he snarled.

„Anthea said he would be here in about an hour. I know your relationship is currently a little bit strung up, but I still beg you to take a shower and to change clothes.", John demanded.

„It is just Mycroft, the man who offered his services willingly and with pleasure to Moriarty. He does not come because he does not know what to do. He knows I am better at my job than his incapable minions.", he shrugged bitterly.

„The things are like they are and you don't know what he wants yet. Aren't you curious?"

„My brother does not know how to process further and, therefore, he needs my advice. I suppose somebody has escaped from him.", Sherlock grinned contently.

„Get up. Take a goddamn shower and then pick one of your suits and a shirt from your wardrobe. ", John persuaded him.

Grumbling Sherlock pulled out a suit and a white shirt from the cupboard and went afterwards to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Isabel reached Eric's flat . By ringing the doorbell she asked for admission. He lived in a small house in Greenwich.

Before she came here, she had hidden herself successfully from a police car, which drove through the street.

A tall blond young man opened the door.

„Hurry up, come in before somebody sees you.", Eric said without any hesitations and pulled her in the hall of his house.

„Thanks, you literally just saved my life.", Isabel smiled at her friend.

„I would say no problem, but you unleashed the hell outside since your burglary?", his voice sounded concerned and furious.

„I know, but believe me I had no choice.", she defended herself against him. She didn't want to have a life on the run anymore.

„You could be dead or in one of the torture cells, don't you know this?", Eric went down the hall.

„I'm standing in your hall and I am fine.", Isabel shouted while she hung up her jacket and pushed the flash drive in her trouser pocket.

„ The question is how long do you want to make more of these extremely dangerous stupidities.", Eric answered sarcastically, took two cups from the cupboard, before he made coffee.

„Could you please stop being nasty with me? So far I know you have also lost people who were important to you.", she looked at some photos on the chest of drawers. They showed Eric with his parents and, among the rest, also with another young man. Eric's boyfriend. The man he had fallen in love with back in high school: Jack. Jack had been everything to him. Tall, strong, good-looking, very charming and he had had only eyes for Eric.

Until he disappeared. One day he didn't return home from jogging. Presumably they caught him on his round, arrested and kidnapped him.

His corpse presumably lay in a common grave or had been buried somewhere else.

It had been three years ago now.

It took a while for Eric to recover from this shock, as far as it was generally possible.

Isabel was certain he would give everything just to find out the truth about what had happened to Jack.

„Thank you Isabel William for laying a finger in my wound.", Eric fired back.

„Hey, you know what I mean. I think out there are so many people who earn to know what has happened to their family members and, on the other hand, I know exactly in these file documents there are many crimes and cruelties so I can ransom myself with it as well. For good.", she smiled.

„What exactly have you stolen?", Eric wanted to know and he frowned.

„This is data about the re-education camps for oppositionals and other people who did not like James Moriarty and who he did not like either. Moreover, I allowed myself to take the data of the education programme for young troublemakers.", she entered the small, bright kitchen and sat down at Eric's culinary table.

„I hope you do not suspect to row with Mycroft Holmes.", Eric passed her one cup of coffee.

„Do you have milk?", she asked.

„Cream.", Isabel agreed in response.

„Fine..", she smiled.

„So? Do you want to row with the iceman?", Eric sat down to her.

„Not immediately. I could imagine he is out of sorts with me and I hope that Moriarty still doesn't know anything . It's merely a matter of time.", Isabel sipped at her coffee after she had put cream in it.

„How did you get in there?", he laid his forehead in folds.

„Well, there is this badly controlled tunnel and I have a small frame. I climbed in and then I slipped through the security gaps.",she grinned proudly. This was a complete success for her.

„Do I want to know how you found out about these gaps in the system?", Eric shook the head.

„There are lonely watchmen who cannot resist the blink of a young woman.", laughed Isabel in total amusement.

„Nevertheless, oh my God Izzie, you did not have...?", he stared at them with big, green eyes.

„Don't be ridiculous, Eric! I have merely flirted and brought them something to drink. After the third shot I knew everything I wanted to know.", proudly she leant back and yawned.

„If they interrogate me about you I'll deny to even know you.", he looked at the clock. It was shortly after midnight.

„I can manage it.", she laughed again.

„It is clear to you that he has a brother who has worked for Scotland Yard years ago?", Eric asked her.

„Of course. Sherlock Holmes is a legend, but no one has seen him in quite a while, I reckon that either he has given up his craft as an investigator or he is dead. Pity, actually.", Isabel twitched with her shoulders.

„Supposedly house arrest. Believe me, if he is searching for you then you are in very hot water!", said her mate and waited for Isabel's reaction.

„Bollocks! They do not even know who I am, although I am not quite sure whether the supervision cameras were shut down or not. ", she grinned nervously.

„Oh Izzie... tell me you're joking.", he looked really worried.

„To tell the truth, no, but I am, actually sure that it worked."

„I hope for your sake. And why a pity, actually? Did you fancy him?", Eric grinned. Talking about men was way better, than talking about his best friend being arrested for stealing from the government.

„Not really. Nevertheless. I was impressed by his intellect. Never met him in person.", she acted as if it was nothing.

„So?", he wanted to annoy her.

„Come on... I did not think of him as unattractive, however dreadfully arrogant.", she rolled her eyes.

„How cute...", Eric laughed before he took a look on his watch, „you should probably go to the cellar, everything is still where you left it some days ago. I have washed a few of your things"

„Okay, I'll take the coffee and my stuff with me.", Isabel got up.

„I'll help you...", he followed her to the coat rack and wanted to take her pocket.

„Thanks, my dear, for simply everything. You're the only family I got ", Isabel smiled and followed him by a door on the right from the coatroom in the cellar.

„You are my friend and my family, no matter what you do or what kind of mess you make.", Eric laid his hand on her shoulder and hugged her.

After a little while she lay rolled up on the old sofa that stood beside his washing machine.

Luckily she had been able to leave some of her things with Eric, otherwise she would spend another day in her sweaty clothes. The next morning she would go and take a shower and then leave the house. Being here over a day was far too dangerous.

She pulled the duvet closer around herself and tried to calm down. It didn't matter how much she had enjoyed her triumph, she feared to be caught, nevertheless.

Then everything would start again: being imprisoned, being interrogated, being tortured.

She inhaled deeply and fell asleep, finally getting some rest.

Meanwhile Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes sat in Sherlock's living room. Both stared at each other without saying a word. An icy silence dominated the space between them.

John, also in the space was to play as the referee again if necessary, the cold war was certainly had broken out.

It was Mycroft who broke the silence: „Can we skip these inanities?"

„You mean forgetting that you chose Moriartys side?", Sherlock pulled up his eyebrows.

„A man in my position is not always able to select what's best for him. Sometimes it's chosen for him. ", Mycroft sat up in his chair.

„Your excuses had been more persuasive.", countered his brother.

„I'm not here to argue with you.", the older Holmes reached in the inside pocket of his jacket.

„You need help, this is logical. It is, we both know, the only reason why you would come here. I presume somebody has escaped from you and you are afraid someone could notice this mishap?", Sherlock grinned contently.

„Absolutely, you want to tell me how do you know this...", Mycroft growled and clasped the clutch of his umbrella.

„Just now as you walked in Anthea was extremely busy with her Blackberry. This could mean that she either has a crisis with one of her affairs or she is about trying to do her job which leads me to believe she is trying to keep the press and Moran away from you. I suppose at least with the press she was successful. Moreover, you have this small vein in your right temple which clearly pulses. You have had it since we were children. The only question that remains: what gives you such headaches that you must beg your brother for help?", the Detective grinned again.

„I do not beg!", Mycroft granted back.

„Of course you beg. I am obviously the only person in London who can help you, otherwise you would have asked Moran's bullies for help. So either someone wants to kill James Moriarty which would be fine for me or somebody has slipped through your security apparatus and has made a fool out of you. This would explain your vigorious reaction when I said, you were begging me and your hands, dear brother, are extremely sweaty. Am I right when I say, that your situation is going to be even more uncomfortable if Moriarty discovers this little secret of yours. You still have Anderson in your service right? Don't worry: Scotland Yard knows about this little incident. What exactly has this person stolen from you? ", John saw the evil grin on Sherlock's face when he saw how Mycroft's face grew pale .

He pulled out the supervision photos out and laid them on the coffee table between them:

„Here do the math!", he said sighing.

With interest Sherlock reached out for it and looked at the pictures and several seconds later he was amused. Really John could hear him chuckling quietly.

„Awfully funny!", he shook his black curls, „a young woman has outwitted the big Mycroft Holmes!"

„She has stolen important data! Sherlock, it is about national security!", Mycroft defended himself, while his brother scrutinised the pictures.

„Not my security.", the Detective shrugged unimpressed.

„It is also your security Sherlock! What do you think who keeps Moriarty and Moran at bay?", hissed Mycroft.

„I am really grateful for your help, my dearest Mycroft.", Sherlock commented sarcastic.

Both wheezed.

„What do you want Mycroft?", John wanted to know.

„I want him to trouble himself to find her and to bring back the data.", urged Mycroft .

„Your only intention is that the police will arrest me on the street", Sherlock snapped unbelievingly.

„Sherlock please, let him finish speaking!", John demanded of his best friend with an angry look.

Mycroft nodded to John appreciatively: „Take it for a change of your usual experiments. A case just for you. Find her, take back the data from her and bring her to me, I will take care of her afterwards."

„It is about the girl? Oh my goodness, Mycroft, have you fallen for her?", Sherlock snorted. The idea of his brother being in love was more than ridiculous.

„No, but nevertheless I think the young lady requires my advice.", the man with the umbrella smiled.

„And I will be able to walk around London without any restrictions?", Sherlock blinked at him with his blue eyes.

„Of course. Now I already assume you know where to look for our little thief.", Mycroft leant back a little. He knew Sherlock had become curious.

„It was not especially difficult if that's what you mean. She is in her beginning twenties and judging after the clothes I'd rather suggest she is sleeping under a bridge on the way or at least in the deprived areas , presumably she tries to remain unrecognized. She is already on the run for quite a while now and what concerns her family, she has none , I think of her to be the daughter of an opponent of Moriarty. I would like to bet on that he is also quite eager to get her into his clutches, which could be the reason why you're keeping her name off the record at the moment.", Sherlock finished his deduction and passed the photo to John who gasped a little after a look at it.

„She is... attractive... I mean she is a criminal of course..., but however, very attractive...", John Watson got muddled.

„I do not think the lady will have time for dates any time soon, Dr. Watson. Look at my brother for instance, he is not attracted to these feminine charms.", said Mycroft drily.

„Distractions of this kind are irrelevant for me, it's sentiment and I don't do sentiment. So what about the name now?", Sherlock was annoyed.

„Her name is of Isabel Williams. Her father was an active member of the Labour Party until the election some years ago. After the election he and his wife were put under arrest and were imprisoned later. Their daughter Isabelle found accomodation at the age of seventeen years in one of the education measures where she was an extremely difficult case. Miss William had to be sedated several times because of her violent attacks on supervisors. However, she fled a year later from the institution. Since then she is located in the underground , either if she smears political messages on walls or by criminal actions like tonight. Indeed, this is her first felony. To avoid even greater damage it would be wise , if you found her within the next days.", Mycroft finished his explanation.

„An extremely tragic history...", nodded John and passed his best friend the pictures.

It was quiet a moment.

He would accept. Mycroft knew how much the boredom gnawed at Sherlock.

„What happens to her when I've found her?", he asked his older brother .

„That is none of your business, isn't it? Do you accept the case or not?", Mycroft saw how John stopped his breath.

„Fine, then I'll take it,", Sherlock finally nodded..

His brother got up and clasped the clutch of his umbrella: „Very well, you know how you can contact me if you found her. Goodbye. Sherlock, Doctor Watson, it was real pleasure, as always.", and then after a few seconds he was gone.

Both men waited until the front door at the ground floor clicked shut.

„Did that just happen?", John wanted to know irritatedly.

„Obviously. Tomorrow we will begin with the search and now I have to think.", Sherlock supported his chin with his folded hands.

„Do you really want to hand Isabelle Williams over to Mycroft?", John didn't seem to be alright with that thought.

„I guess that that would be her doom. I need to think", he pointed out before he remained silent.

Mind palace, John thought and yawned.

„I go to bed.", he murmured and left Sherlocks room.


	3. Chapter 3

**So after a really long time, here is the newest chapter. In this chapter I'll show a tiny piece of Isabel's past. **

**Thanks to my my beta daisherz365 who had a look at it first :) **

**Enjoy the chapter and please review and tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: Except Izzie and Eric, none of the characters are mine!**

3.

„Come on John!", shouted Sherlock and pulled on his Belstaff along with the blue scarf, while he ran up and down. It was still early and it had taken him a while to get John out of bed.

„May I have tea or a coffee before we leave?", John asked while he tripped down the stairs.

„You are on your feet, you're talking, you are fine. Do you have the keys?", Sherlock shrugged.

Still tired John searched for in his pockets and found finally what he was looking for: a car key.

„Here...", he held them up.

„Brilliant! You're driving.", then Sherlock hurried out the door.

„Boys? Where are you going?", asked Mrs Hudson confused from the kitchen.

„He has a case from Mycroft. Excuse me, Mrs Hudson. I'll tell you later what it is.", John followed Sherlock out of the house.

„Would you hurry up please? You have the keys!", the Detective stood beside a black taxi which was parked on the street in front of the house.

„Excuse me, I had forgotten that you can't drive.", John grumbled.

„But you can and that should be enough for both of us.", Sherlock answered when his friend opened the car.

„Thank you very much.", the Detective climbed in the back seat while John took the driver's side.

„Where do you want to go?", asked the doctor.

„First we go the places where the most homeless are located. My Homeless Network should still be working. I think Isabel William is a familiar face. For the reason that she has proven her artistic talent, which is why I want to talk to Raz. He busies himself still in the subsoil. His _God save Moriarty_ graffiti some months ago was very inspiring in my view. ", Sherlock explained and grinned.

„I had expected that you liked something like that.", John started the engine.

„First in the direction of Thames.", ordered the Detective from the back seat and John drove off.

After Moriarty's decision that the cab drivers should register there customers and to transmit the data to the security ministry , Sherlock couldn't use cabs anymore.

He had sulked some weeks until the day when John had lost his job because of his friendship to him. For Sherlock there was no reason for concern but rather for joy.

He bought an old cab from his savings which John needed to repair himself. Of course John had not been pleased with it, finally, he was a medical doctor and not a garage mechanic. Sherlock hadn't got ready to help him. Instead, he had often stood beside the broken car, had philosophised on the mechanical functionalities of autoengines and every now and gave John clever advices. John really had had to hold himself back in order to not to punch his friend's face and damage his well-shaped cheek bones.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had given up to share his clever advices and John was more than thankful about that fact.

Only on their first drive there had there been a loud discussion because the Consulting Detective did not leave it and had criticised constantly John's driving skills, which followed with John requesting Sherlock either to walk by foot or to shut up.

Surprisingly he had acquiesced. Since then the drives ran nearly harmoniously. Now and then Sherlock still made some grumpy comments after which John suggested he to walk to his designation.

„If we go to see Raz, I'll stay in the taxi.", said John and drove the car in the direction of Thames.

„Why if I may ask?", Sherlock grinned, John could see this in the rear-view mirror.

„You know exactly why. When we are talking to him he always 'works' and then there is the police coming around the corner, you both make a getaway and then I have to justify myself.", rumbled John.

„Oh John, you know my respect of London's friend and helper is a bit tense these days and, therefore, I leave such talks to your absolutely available talent for rethoric.", Sherlock grinned.

„Next time I'll tell them, that you are behind corner and that you have a vale of a time, while I carry the can for you. We are too old for these kind of jokes...", he did not sound very much delighted yet.

„We talk later about that, now I keep calm I try to think.", then Sherlock leant back in the seat.

John on the driver seat shook his head.

Isabel stood in her underwear in the bathroom. It was eight o'clock and she knew that Eric had to go in at the latest one hour to work. Till then she had to be ready for leaving the house as well. It wasn't the best idea to stay alone in the house while he was working. Eric already had enough trouble because he gave her a secret place to stay.

They had tried to play the happy couple some months ago, because they had believed it would be useful for both of them: for Eric, so that nobody could ask questions why a young, good-looking man never was in female company. For Isabel because she needed a place to stay for the night. But this had been too much for both of them. Of course they liked each other, but only as good friends.

The fact Isabel and Eric had to kiss each other at the door so that everybody believed they were in love had brought them both to their senses. Eric never smooched with women and Isabel only with men who she fancied. Moreover, there had been quarrels between the two of them, which had annoyed them both and so both had decided to end this experiment. It hadn't damaged their friendship, only made them stronger. Now they were able to laugh about this strange situation.

The water in the shower already ran, but Isabel took her time. In Eric's bathroom stood a large mirror and Isabel looked at her reflection: her slender body was only covered by her black underwear. She had bruises from the previous night's pursuit. There were some scars on her belly and on her back where she could see a small tattoo just over her coccyx . Some numerals which someone had done on her in an unprofessional way.

Number 3783.

Painful traces of the past which she could never ever remove. Isabel still remembered the infection afterwards which had almost killed her. Memories of the year that had robbed her youth.

As well as Isabel could , she pushed her dark thoughts aside and slipped finally under the hot shower. The water flooded over her and warmed her. Taking a hot shower was the only luxury for her in the last time. Usually she only had the showers in King's Cross and often there was no warm water. Her fingers slid lost in thought over a long scar below her belly button. Her skin was a little numb here and felt cold as far as she could just feel it.

Her memories returned and got her like a blow in the face. These were thoughts of a night five years ago. The night she had begged for her own life. It was one of many things Isabel could never forget and which caught her with brunt:

_She lay with her back on the dirty mattress. Her clothes were torn and her skin was only covered meagerly by her underwear. The man who knelt over her pressed a knife hard under her throat. _

„_If you scream, it will be the last you will ever do, nobody will come to help you!", he hissed in her ear._

_Tears ran over her face. The fear choked her and she quietly gasped. _

_His free hand explored curiously the upper part of the body. She could not defend herself and her torturer enjoyed this obviously. _

„_How sad that you don't relax and enjoy it, we could have so much fun.", he purred to her and sank the knife point to her stomach._

„_Please...don't hurt me...",she whispered in a hoarse voice. She felt as if she was trapped beneath him._

_On his face was a cold smile and the knife paused right under her belly button: „You are still so young and your skin...", he took his time to stroke her skin with his fingertips barely touching and caused a nervous shiver to slide down her spine. „... is so nice, so flawlessly, so soft...", then he lowered his lips and kissed her there. Disgusted she trembled and tried for the first time since he dragged her in this room to free her body from his embrace. _

„_Drop it!", he shouted at her and hit her face. Blood was flowing from her nose. Eventually, he shot up and kissed her mouth. Isabel bit him until his lip bled. When he moved back she spit him in the face._

_Growling he backed away:„You defend yourself, I like that! Is that what your daddy taught you? Did he tell you not to be nice to men who just want your best?"_

_The next thing she could remember was the pain on her belly which nearly ripped open and the feeling of something warm that flowed down over her skin and dripped beside her on the mattress..._

Isabel changed the temperature of the water to ice-cold. So cold that she believed she would freeze to death yet also made her feel alive at the same moment. To live in the past did not help her. Freezing she turned off the shower and reached for her towel that hung about the heating. Someone knocked at the door.

„Izzie, are you ready? I have to go to the bathroom.", Eric asked against the closed door.

„I'm getting dressed now.", she answered and rubbed herself with the towel.

„Alright, I have something to eat in the kitchen and some coffee.", he said fast.

„Great, I'll be there in a few minutes", Isabel had to hurry up and get dressed.

When she came from the bathroom her hair was still a little damp and she quickly arranged her shirt.

Eric sat in shorts and a shirt in the kitchen.

„Hey, did you sleep well?", he asked and took a sip of his coffee.

„Yes, well at least I tried. It was a sleepless night...", she admitted.

„Thought so. Do you have any plans for today? ", Eric asked while bringing his cup to the sink.

„I am not sure yet. Walking around in the streets is not safe, but I have to find a place for the flash drive. I need to hide it.", said Isabel whom was trembling a little. The data could impossibly remain in Erics flat.

„Hide it in my cellar, I am certain that...", he suggested but Isabel interrupted him.

„No, this is not possible! You are already too deep in this thing already and I will not risk your life even more! Proposal rejected.", Isabel made her decision and took a big gulp of coffee. It was enough for Eric to hide her almost every night. He risked his skin too often for her.

„Do you have a better idea? You cannot hide it in any of the homeless Hotspots...", he laughed.

„Eric if the police find it during a house search you are sunk! I am slightest of your problems!", growled Isabel.

„Have you found the information you were searching for?", Eric looked at her expectantly, particularly because he hoped it could also solve his questions.

„I need to have a look at it first, I only had the time to store the data last night and to take them with me . After that Mycroft Holmes' men were already on my heels.", Isabel explained to him and pushed her cup worriedly back and forth.

„You know where to find anything in my flat , so you can also use my computer.", he nodded to her.

„Thank you, I'll think about it. I still want to talk to Raz before I do something.", Isabel proceeded and saw how Eric pulled his eyebrows up.

„This guy only causes trouble, no matter how right his actions are. At the end of the day you are even deeper in shit than before.", he shook his head in disbelief.

„He knows best what happens in the underground and he never lets me down. I want to know from him how much I have startled that pack of bastards last night and whether he has planned something new.", she shrugged.

„Izzie, don't be silly please! You are the most wanted woman in London since yesterday , if not in the whole country! I don't trust Raz, I think he will sell the data to the next person who wants them!

„Oh come on, you know me maybe I won't give them to him at all.", Isabel got up and made her way down the hall where her jacket was hanging and slipped it over her arms along with her bag.

„You were right last night: of course we both have lost people who mean something to us but neither you or I will reach the person who has the responsibility for this pain.", Eric followed her out of the kitchen.

„That's not what I want... or at least not yet. For the moment it would suffice if my name disappered from all these files that the government has about me. I don't want to be girl number 3783 for the rest of my life. ", Isabel checked her appearance in the mirror for the last time: under her jacket she carried a black hoodie to shield herself.

„Okay, I get it. However this is your life but I fear that you'll get into something you can't run away from.", she could hear the concerned tone in his voice.

„Eric, I'll take care of myself. I promise you that and I also won't show up in your flat the next days, so it won't cause you any trouble.", she said as she went to slip out of the door.

„Hey, please wait. I am not happy about the fact that you will ask Raz for his advice but you need to do what you think is right. You are the only family I got and I simply do not want to see you disappear in one of Moran's black vehicles.", he laid one hand on her shoulders.

Izzie turned to him: „I can't sit here and act like everything is fine. I'm done with being afraid all the time.", she didn't want to address reproaches to him , because he wanted to stop her. He didn't know the whole story. He knew nothing about her scars and what had happened to her at the community home and why she ran away.

Quickly she pulled Eric in her arms and embraced him.

„Come back tonight, I don't care about what happened yesterday. The thought that you sleep under a bridge or in one of these shady railway stations is not really soothing.", he said while Isabel slid out of his embrace.

Isabel looked at him briefly and nodded: „Okay, I'll come back. I'll call you later.", then she left the house.

It drizzled a little when she made her way down the street. Her first impulse was to go to the next Underground station and to hop on the next train, but then she remembered the cameras, which could film her. At least when Isabel would left the station there would be a reception committee from Mycroft Holmes.

So Izzie walked the way to the Thames by foot.

She knew where Raz currently worked and hoped to find him there.

It would take her awhile to reach her destination and Isabel was angry that she had not taken one of Eric's sandwiches. At least, she had some coffee in her stomach.

Isabel with a lowered head ran forward without anticipating that this day would become nerve-wracking...


	4. Chapter 4

**So here is chapter 4. Thanks to all the kind reviews, I'm so glad to see that you like this little idea :)**

**A special thanks to daisherz365 who was my Beta. It really means a lot to me :)**

**Please read and leave a review :)**

4.

Raz had many faces.

He looked like a nice guy, who played along the rules.

On the one hand he was the successful graffiti artist before the coup whose pieces of art had provided sensation and recognition which were forbidden from Moriarty's after his assumption of office. Today, at the times of James Moriarty, Raz had moved up the ladder to an political activist and had gone down in the London underworld.

Here he rallied the people around him who felt the same.

In the night after her escape from the community home Isabel had bumped into him when she reached the Thames.

He was adding one of his political graffitis to the wall as she literally tripped over him, hungry and overtired.

She had been intimidated and Raz had soon been sure of the fact that he dealt with somebody who did not want to be found by Moran's men and the police either.

Both had been nasty with each other until they realized that their positions weren't that different. Even if Izzie had been afraid at the beginning, she helped Raz with some of his actions willingly. Often both had been nearly caught by the police or Moran's men and had to run away.

Running was a thing she learnt out there.

What Isabel had noted in only a few days she knew was that Raz had good contacts within the London underworld: no matter what kind of criminal, whether mafiosi, petty crook or drug dealer, the lean young man with the boyish face knew them all and also dealed with them. All had the biggest respect for him because he affronted Moriarty and was still untouchable. He had taught Izzie two things: to stand for her actions and if it was necessary to run for her life.

Raz was still a crook.

Izzie found him on the shore of the Thames, near the Southwark bridge. He was spraying a 'End the Terror now!' slogan on the wall. To underline his message he had painted a caricature of Moriartys face next to the slogan. Everything in bright red colour.

„I like your new work.", Izzie smiled as she slowly approached him. She had pulled the hood far in her face but looked at him in the dark eyes.

Raz turned his head in her direction. He wore a breath protector, which he pulled down now.

He put down the spray can with the red colour: „You are the last person I expected here today. Moran's men and New Scotland Yard are looking for you."

„It's not possible to please everybody. I just wanted to know how the situation is right now.", answered Izzie and watched how Raz fumbled with a package of cigarettes which he had taken from the pocket of his grey hoodie and offered one to her.

„No thanks, you know smoking never was my thing.", she rejected it friendly.

Raz shrugged and lighted a cigarette: „Your choice, helps against the hunger, your stomach growls so loud you could scare away mongrels."

„Well I forego but I know that you have always something to eat in your bag. You smoke and I'll eat.", grinned Izzie and had a look at Raz messenger bag which leant by the wall, where she found a sandwich.

„Roastbeef, mustard and gherkins? What is so wrong with peanut butter and jam for breakfast? I probably will never understand your eating habits...", Isabel shook her head sighing with the look at the topping.

„You don't have to eat it...", winked Raz.

„Humph...", Isabel made a disappointed sound before she took a bite.

„You did it actually, didn't you? You got into the security headquarters...", the young man grinned at her and puffed blue smoke in the air. Isabel had told him some weeks ago when the idea had ghosted through her head.

„Very well observed.", she nodded chewing.

„And you have found what you searched for?", it was less a question than a statement.

„Indeed.", Izzie grinned contently.

„Now you are here because you want to know what you should do now and you need advice. Isn't this Eric's job?", Raz seemed to be amused at his statement and blew out smoke once more. Eric and he had only met a few times: once as Eric had gathered Izzie drunk state near the Millenium bridge, after Raz had called him.

Both had met and had exchanged some emphatically polite words in which Eric had told Raz that he thought he was as an irresponsible guy.

Eric thought Raz was bad company and a crook while Raz thought Eric was a philistine who played by Moriarty's rules, but little did Raz know...

„Oh come on Raz. I know you do not like each other. Can you conect with Mycroft Holmes' PA or rather his sex kitten?", Isabel wiped her hands on her trousers as the last piece of the sandwich had been demolished.

„You mean with this Anthea?", asked Raz back and flicked the cigarette stub on the ground.

„If she is called so.", she nodded.

„That's like shooting a fish in a barrel but why?"

„Because I suppose that Mr Holmes certainly does not want Kitty Riley to have a real page-one-story in her blog.", a smile certain of victory spread over Isabel's face.

„I get it, you really want to blackmail Mycroft Holmes.", he laughed.

„Blackmailing is such an ugly word, let's say I take my destiny in to my own hands.", Isabel grinned at him.

„Where do you keep the data if I may ask?", Raz wanted to know.

„Raz, we all keep our dirty little secrets.", Izzie turned her look to the graffiti.

„You carry them with you, don't you?", he blinked at her.

She became a little red: „Better then hiding them in Eric's flat..."

„I could take care of them.", Raz smiled at her sheepishly.

„No Raz, this is my battle.", Isabel rejected his request.

„You're playing dangerous little game. Many people disappeared never to be seen again for less. Moreover, your name is still on the search list because you scampered from the community home."

„Well I'm aware, but I'll take the risk.", answered Izzie fast and her hand touched her trouser pocket in which the flashdevice rested.

„Anthea is a difficult negotiating partner and you will have to argue sooner or later also with her boss. Do not think that you'll just snap a finger and the two will erase your data.", reminded Raz her.

„What does she fancy about this guy?", Isabel grinned at him.

„Maybe he has some hidden talents.", Raz grinned back.

„You are disgusting.", she shuddered.

„And you are an outrageous chancer , although I am very impressed."

„Thank you so much king of the underworld.", Isabel returned in a snippy tone.

„You're welcome my love, I try to help wherever I can and if it is only with my lunch.", he sighed.

For a moment they were both quiet and Raz started to decorate his work with some white highlights.

Isabel watched him for a moment. Raz had said the same like Eric this morning,only with the difference that Eric had been concerned while Raz was amused.

„Up to this point nobody has found me, nobody believes that I wander through the city as if I had all the time in the world or that I'm standing here and having a little chat with you. The members of the police are not clever enough to catch me. I state that I could have a coffee while I'm sitting at Trafalgar Square and no one would arrest me.", Isabel grinned smugly.

„And you are completely sure about that?", Raz gave her a mocking side glance.

„More or less...", Isabel crossed her arms in front of her chest.

„You know that Mycroft Holmes will change the tune?"

„You mean brute force? I am really shocked that he believes I can be caught by Moran's bunch of fools. Moreover, I'm over the worse.", she could not keep down her laughter.

„Believe me if his brother is on your heels then Moran's men are the smallest of your of your problems.", he decorated Moriarty's features. Now the drawing showed the prime ministers head with bad folds on the forehead and some nasty spots on his cheeks.

„His view is not crazy enough..", Izzie tried to change the subject.

„I will do that later.", Raz took a step back and looked at the picture again.

„Are we talking about Sherlock Holmes? He has disappeared, either he stands under house arrest, or he is dead I do not think that he should make me nervous. Is he really as brilliant as everybody says?", she shrugged.

„You have no idea.", Raz answered and looked suddenly over her shoulder, „You can convince yourself of it, we will receive visitors. Sherlock Holmes is on his way. Do you wish to stay for a small chat?", Raz grinned triumphing.

„I beg your pardon?", her pupils widened but she did not turn round. Instead, she checked with a hand the fit of her hood.

„Watson has brought him and they both are coming here. You can stay here and act as if everything is fine or you can make it off to the next corner behind me where you can listen to what he has to say", Raz reached in his pocket and gave her a little bag with white powder.

„What should I do with a little bag of gak? I don't use drugs, remember?", Isabel asked him furious.

„Just be thankful that I gave you a disguise for the next ten minutes as my lovely customer, it comes on the house and now decide: go or stay, what will it be Darling?", the young man seemed to be very nervous.

Unconfident Izzie did what she shouldn't have done: she turned her head only so far that she could see the tall, slender man with the black curls running in her direction. A smaller blond guy followed him and yawned while he was walking.

„Street corner...", she murmured.

As Sherlock and John got out of the the cab they discovered Raz by a wall near the street where he sprayed colour on a house wall. Sherlock had clarified during their drive that they could only find the artist there because it was his present project to be improve the appearance of the bridges in town with some regime-critical graffitis and because only the Southwark bridge and the Towerbridge remained, he had tapped that Raz would save the Towerbridge as his big finale. John sometimes found it frightening how good Sherlock was in deducting things.

„Why do we want to speak with Raz?", John asked him while running. He had to make some steps more to keep up with his friend.

„Because Raz has the best contacts in this environment and is trustworthier than the people of the Homeless Network. I think Miss William needs people who she can trust and for that Raz is the best choice. People call him the king of the underworld and as well as I estimate her I think she is clever enough to have his support.", answered Sherlock fast.

„He is not alone.", John nodded in the direction of the artist. Next him stood a slender person. She had turned her back to them and wore the hood of her black sweater over her head. Her legs were in a pair of jeans and on her feet she carried a pair of worn-out, black Chucks.

„Obviously. Do we want to flip a coin John to decide whether it is a man or a woman?", he grinned at John, as if he would win this bet without a doubt.

Both observed how Raz put something in her hand and a short verbal exchange followed, then his client disappeared behind the next corner. With a look at the walk of the client John was sure that it was a woman.

„Raz!", Sherlock called the young man as they approached him.

„Sherlock, it's been a while.", he stretched the mask of his face as both men him reached.

„I had to tell you my congratulations in person. This new project is really inspiring. Extremely tasteful. Is this your newest work?", he looked amused at the blood-red drawing on the wall.

„Yes I call it the bridge cycle. You should come to the exposure of the final picture, I think the police will fork out a bottle of champagne.", the lean young man grinned.

„With pleasure , but I am not here because of your artistic abilities.", Sherlock reached in the pocket of his coat and pulled out the supervision photos of Isabel and showed them to Raz. John stood beside him and seemed to be a little nervous.

„Dr. Watson I forgot to ask you how you are today.", Raz grinned over to John.

„I'm fine... fabulous, to tell the truth. As long as you keep your colour tins in your hand everything is very well.", John pulled his mouth to a skew grin.

„John is afraid he has to argue with the police today.", Scherlock chuckled.

„Bollocks...", murmured John and heard his both interlocutors giggling.

„Raz, have you seen the young lady?", Sherlock turned again to Raz who examined the photos interest.

„Is this the security headquarter of your brother? Is she responsible for the burglary yesterday?", asked Raz grinning.

„Is there one more place in London where so many servers are collected?", Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. He was annoyed.

„If I knew her, I would have pronounced her my congratulations. Who is the beauty queen?", Raz returned to the pictures.

„Raz, you should know I notice if you lie.", the deep voice of the Detective sounded irritated.

„It was worth the try. This is Izzie, I know her from the subsoil, I have seen her two or three times.", the artist answered and shrugged.

„You know her resumé?", John wanted to know from him.

„Her Parents were members of the opposition who were arrested, she was a inmate of a community home. We came to know each other when she went underground. Nevertheless, you know, I am the guardian of the lost souls.", Raz smiled sarcastically.

„Yes, and an angel on top of that.", noted John sarcastically.

„Do you know where she is right now? She was a bit naughty and my brother is very much in sorrow about the fact that she played with his toys", Sherlock laughed.

„I'm sorry, I have not seen here in a while , I already thought she was arrested.", explained Raz and wrapped up his colour tins .

„Who was the person who stood beside you when we came? You are not the born drug dealer Raz, even if you must maintain a certain reputation."

„Nevertheless, you know Sherlock, a boy like me who is out on the streets most time of the day also has to eat from time to time. Take it as my second leg to stand on.", the young man smiled at him.

„You still lie Raz. Should I tell you who this client was? Young, female, in her early twenties. You had a small conversation as I came, I suppose she did not want the drugs at all. You wanted to give her a head start, Raz, which means that she is not especially keen on meeting me.", Sherlock concluded contently. He knew his deductions were right.

„This could be, however, it could be due to the fact that drugs are forbidden and one already gets three years of Pentonville alone for possession.", the young man scratched the back of his head.

„Yes, this could be, however, I am sure as your customer has just disappeared, had they been more than in a great hurry and not only because she could bring a little bag of coke behind the castle and bolt. I have just noticed you have told them the fact that I was on the way to you. I hardly can assume you were ready already she, disappeared behind the next street corner. Isabel William and your last meeting lasted no more than the last five minutes!", Raz jaw fell at that. Of course he knew Sherlock's abilities, but up to now he had never been able to nail him so.

Behind the corner Isabel slowly started to sweat. Sherlock Holmes was tearing Raz apart, bit by bit.

„Hey, you cannot ask me to flink my own people. If this is your deduction I can't change anything about it.", she heard her friend say.

„Sherlock, don't you think you're rushing it?", said the man who was with him. John Watson, Isabel supposed. Carefully, she dared to look out from her hiding place to work out her chances: she could presumably manage Watson.

He was a man of medium height and not exactly what she would call an athletic guy.

Izzie giggled lightly: she thought of an article before the change of regime in which the former army doctor had been called 'the bachelor'.

He looked friendly, without a doubt but he was no challenge. She dealt with such guys like that everyday. Nothing special though.

It was Sherlock Holmes who upset her stomach : tall, slender, definitively athletic and probably blisteringly fast. Besides, he would not trip over his expensive Bellstaff coat, Isabel thought viciously.

For a brief moment her eyes slid over his face and Izzie had to remember her conversation with Eric from the night: he was attractive and emitted at the same time something incredibly dangerous for her. His curved lips had contorted into a grin.

And those cheek bones...

Yes, it would be a pity if she had to do any harm to this face.

She whistled through her teeth and looked to the ground.

„Not in the slightest. She stands right behind the corner, right Raz?", said Sherlock quickly and Isabel looked up.

„I have no idea.", Raz played dumb.

„I interpret this as a yes.", she heard a deep baritone voice say which suddenly seemed to come closer to her.

„Sherlock, wait!", Watson exclaimed.

Quietly Isabel pushed herself away from the wall and made her way down the street.

„Excuse me!", she suddenly heard a voice approaching behind her, but she did not turn around to face her pursuer.

„Miss William stay where you are!", Sherlock shouted once more.

„That's not me, you must have mistaken me for somebody else!", she recalled to him and raised her speed.

„Why do you run faster? If I had mistaken you, you wouldn't need to run faster.", also he seemed to go faster.

Isabel still wore the hood over her head. Ice-cold sweat was on her forehead.

„That's just how I am...", she answered.

„You could stop and we could talk about it.", his deep voice was closer now, like the sound of his feet.

To stop dead and then what?

Would he really only want to talk to her?

Would he want to catch her?

Did she have another option?

Yes, there was an option: running. One of the few useful things which she had learnt on the street: if you have no other way out, run as fast as you can. Don't look over your shoulder because this slows you down. Run and cast off the one who is on your heels.

„This is ridiculous, do you know that?", was the next statement that came out of Sherlock's mouth and this time she felt that there was only a small gap between them.

„_If _you catch me , we'll talk. I am sorry but that will not happen. ", then Isabel started to run.

As fast as she could she rushed down the street without paying attention where she ran. The only thought in her head was that she couldn't allow herself to get caught.

The noise of her steps on the hard ground roared in her ears.

Her pursuer really needed a brief moment before he was able to follow her.

Isabel had started to run so suddenly that Sherlock had not been able to react, not immediately. Now he pursued her even faster.

The street was long. There were houses on each side, Isabel knew the central districts of London well enough to know that here and there some lanes would open between the houses.

These passageways often had an access to the next street over. She only had to pass the right moment and slip through.

Her breath started to rattle and she gasped. Every breath she took hurt her lungs. Izzie's legs started to tremble a little, but this was normal. The pursuit of the last night was still in her bones and Isabel reckoned that Sherlock Holmes already knew about that.

Behind her she could hear him gasping quietly and with it the noise of his steps which seemed to get closer.

On the right next to her a lane appeared and Isabel took her chance and turned with a jerky movement to the right stumbling a little but finding her balance again quickly.

It was still raining. The drizzle had turned into a rain with thicker drops. Isabels foot stepped in a puddle and sopped the material of her shoes and her jeans a little.

She looked around: the lane was narrow. On the right from she found two dustbins. On the left she saw the jagged masonry of the wall and two locked metal doors. The passageway in front of her was free. Without thinking she made a jump aside and tipped over both garbage containers, so that Sherlock nearly tripped over it. Isabel jumped elegantly over it and briefly looked at him as she turned around.

„If we meet again one day, Mr. Holmes, we will talk, but unfortunately that's not going to happen. Have good life and now excuse me, my schedule is a bit packed.", Izzie hated how arrogant she sounded, but her relief was too big. Sherlock stood tripping near a pile of rubbish and tried to find his balance again. Isabel couldn't help herself and laughed out loud.

„Nice that I didn't need to introduce myself, it's always so tiresome.", he said out of breath.

„This was not difficult, because who does not know the world's only consulting detective Sherlock Holmes? Because you already know my name I'd say we are even.", Isabel curtseyed before him, „I hope we won't see each other again so soon Mr. Holmes."

Then she went to disappear through the other exit of the lane, but after only a few steps she realised that somebody blocked her way.

John Watson ran up to them: „Stay where you are, Miss!"

Isabel's heart made a nervous leap. Seldom did she tangled with two guys all at once. Then she looked in John's eyes and saw how uncertain he really was.

With a quick movement of her hand she slipped off the hood from her head.

„Good timing, John!", Sherlock stated sarcastically and John gave him a slight look.

Isabel looked at him as she got closer: „I don't want to harm you, Miss William!"

„Seems like I'm a real famous person when both of you already know my name. I'm full of joy, really. Do I make you nervous, Dr. Watson? ", she grinned at him as she saw how John's cheeks reddened a little.

„That was easier than you thought for me and there - you just saw John's common reaction when it comes to members of the other gender.", Sherlock commented on her question, while he tripped and nearly fell down. John snorted because of his statement.

„I'm sorry Dr. Watson, but you are not my type and secondly you should not make me hurt you. So please step aside", Izzie pressed out and ignored Sherlock who observed John and her tensely.

„You will harm me?", John looked at her surprised and made a step forward.

„I had warned you.", sighed Isabel before she gave him two specific blows with her palms on his auricles and kicked against his chest. It made him go down. In John's ears was a disagreeable whistle and he felt a ghastly disorientation.

„Gentlemen, it was a pleasure, truly!", she fled from them.

However, Sherlock would not surrender , even if her small show had impressed him and there was something else as well: he hadn't been able to deduce her. Something about her prevented that he use his observation skills. A fact that only made him more curious.

„Come on John!", he shouted as he jumped up and chased after Isabel. John gave him a loud groan and stood up wobbling. It took him a moment to follow Sherlock.

Both were up to her heels.

Annoyed she turned around: these two would probably never surrender!

It must have been a strange picture: two men who ran after a young woman on the bright light of day in the middle of London.

Isabel could not suppress a grin.

The three headed for a big crossroad. If everything worked out well Izzie would be able to shake them off here. She looked fast to the right and to the left before she ran on the street. The approaching cars were too far to threaten her.

Unfortunately, she set against the wet slippery road at the expired soles of her shoes. With a quick step in the middle in the street Isabel slipped and fell on the ground. Panting she lay on the street. Her head roared, her palms burnt. With full force she had hit the asphalt, so that her skin had chafed. Behind her Sherlock and John had stopped and stared at her. Shaking Isabel tried to get back to her feet, but she failed. Her forces left her there.

Right at this moment a truck rushed behind her. Wildly honking he approached Isabel. Just a few moments before she had been so proud that she escaped Sherlock Holmes and now Izzie was sure that this masterstroke could have been her last.

„We must do something!", she heard John say but Sherlock did not answer. Fascinated he watched how Isabel desperately tried to get up..

Isabel had no possibility to flee and was sure, that she wouldn't survive this time. Briefly before the truck was near enough to hit her she closed her eyes. Suddenly Izzie felt an arm firmly around her waist and with a quick motion rolled her fast from the danger zone to the safe side of the street.

Panting she opened her eyes. She lay with her back on the pavement and the first thing she saw, were a pair of beaming blue eyes who slid over her features. Sherlock Holmes knelt over her and stared at her, while he took the pulse at her wrist. Sherlock had saved her life!

„Now you may say thanks, Isabel.", he noted drily while his arm rested around her waist. It felt nearly soothing on her, even if she avoided proximity to men.

„Thanks.", then she fought herself free. The guy should not think that it would be so easy! As Isabel got up she reeled a moment.

John Watson came: „Are you alright I am a doctor, allow me to have a look at you.", he offered her anxiously.

„I'm fine, thanks...", murmured Izzie and felt a little dazed. Nevertheless, she wanted to leave.

„Please be sensible, you could have a concussion and untreated this can be...", she interrupted him.

„I am doing well and now please, let me go. I think we are even...", she whispered and John saw that Isabel was right.

Sherlock went to grab her arm when she ran away but John stopped him:

„It is enough for today Sherlock. Allow her to go. You are clever enough that to find her again any time."

Sherlock nodded to him without objections and then murmured: „A very interesting meeting, don't you think, my dear John?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone! Sorry, it took me a bit longer to upload the new chapter. Anyway here you go.**

**Thank you all so much for all your very kind reviews and for favouriting and following this little twisted thing, it really mans so much to me. I really hope the next chapter is up faster.**

**Special thanks to Daisherz365 for being my Beta and who did a fantastic job! I highly recommend her brilliant stories, they're wonderful! Please read them :) Another thank you goes out for Ambur and MorbidyDefault for their help with my plot :) I can't thank you enough!**

**Disclaimer: Except Izzie and Eric nothing belongs to me **

5.

On the return journey in the taxi John observed how Sherlock and Mycroft were texting.

**I need the record of IW -SH,** the first news was.

_Would you tell me why? -MH_, his brother answered only few seconds later.

**Need more information -SH**, Sherlock typed.

„Mycroft?", asked John.

„He will cooperate, it's just a question of when", Sherlock grinned contently.

„Does he already know that we have met with Miss William and let her go?", John looked uncertainly in the rear-view mirror.

Sherlocks mobile phone made the filthy moan of Irene Adler: „I still have to tell him, he will be pleased."

_I can't give you any confidential government records. Raises too many issues - MH _

**Mycroft if you have supervision photos of her, then the file of a regime opponent had shouldn't be a problem.-SH**

John stopped at a red traffic light: „Mycroft will unleash hell if he finds out that we let her go."

„Wasn't my idea. Anyway, he will become even paler than usual, and in the evening he will call our mother to remonstrate against me. Not a big deal.", Sherlock shrugged and accepted the next text.

_It is a problem! Moriarty will ask questions!-MH _

„Mycroft fears old Jim would ask disagreeable questions. Very strange, becaus they get on so well.",

Sherlock gave John a slight grin which was really cheerless.

„If Moriarty asks questions, it will become a really uncomfortable situation. He is not Jim from IT anymore, but he's James Moriarty the everlasting prime minister.", said John.

„This makes him not necessarily clever.", Sherlock acted unimpressed.

„Why?", he asked.

„He had some help with his small political trick five years ago: Sebastian Moran helped with his racquet troops and then there was still Irene Adler. How did my brother refer to her? Oh, I remember: the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees.", noted Sherlock fiercely.

**Miss William has just escaped. Need more clues -SH**

The answer of his brother came quickly:

_You've let her go ?!-MH_

**Don't worry, as soon as I have the information, I will find her -SH**

„He knows it...", said Sherlock to John.

„Now he'll give us hell .", he sighed and went on.

„Of course not!", grinned his friend.

A new text shuffled in:

_Has she been too fast for you?-MH_

„Too fast?! Please!", murmured Sherlock.

So he wrote back:

**If you don't want my help, find someone who will do better.-SH **

„Is he furious?", Watson wanted to know about him.

„Oh no, he is rather surprised that I didn't catch her immediately.", his deep voice sighed. Again his iPhone moaned:

_Anthea will deliver the file in the afternoon. Good afternoon, Sherlock – MH_

„He will send the information. My brother is always afraid I could let him down.", Sherlock put his mobile phone back in his coat pocket.

„I will go back to the Baker Street. Moreover, I was the one who decided to let her go.", believed John.

„Sooner or later we'll see her again. She fishes in really hot water.", Sherlock nodded.

„This sounds nearly as if you were assuming, which is new to me!", the doctor laughed.

„John, you could see it was difficult for me to concentrate myself when I got her.", murmured Sherlock this as if he wanted to defend himself.

„She is quite clever..."

„I would rather say desperate. It is the way she was running away from us: without looking over her shoulder. Either way it doesn't matter to her who tries to catch her. She is afraid that she is too slow at the sight of her pursuers.", Sherlock thought out loud.

„My goodness Sherlock! How old is she? 22? Who knows what she has experienced on the street...", John sent a reminder.

„Miss William is a very interesting case.", his light blue eyes properly glowed.

„No boredom?"

„On the contrary!", answered the Consulting Detective excitedly.

* * *

Meanwhile, Isabel had expelled the tiredness and the anxiety from her limbs. Still she tried to understand what had just happened.

She had delivered a duel with the great Sherlock Holms and nearly would have escaped from him if she had not fallen flat on her face in the middle of a crossroad.

If he had not saved her the truck would have run her over.

Why had John Watson insisted to let her go?

If it had gone as he planned he would have pulled her on her feet and then straight to this brother to leave her to her destiny.

But here she was: on the street and made her way along. At the same time she decided: the data were safest with her, on her body. She was not sure what Raz would do with it and was sure that Eric would be in too much trouble if he still had to look after it. Isabel would never risk the only family she had left. She had to do something else before she could return to Eric.

Right now Izzie was in a grubby lane in Soho.

Years ago a quarter where multicultural soul of London had been, now one of the quarters of London that went rack. Moriarty cleaned it up from „subversive forces", according to the exact text just to show it then as a peaceful place.

The opposite was the case: the drug trafficking of the town thrived here and there was the dreaded street-walker's patch of the town and his brothels, the 'Cathouses' which were camouflaged as community homes.

A place where power and chaos reigned.

It was the place where Isabel had made the most humiliating experiences in her whole life. One year of terror and pain.

Her 'home' had been here, only a few lanes from where she was standing.

From now on she had to be especially careful: this communitiy home was subordinated to the personal care of Sebastian Moran and Irene Adler. Two people whose scruple did not exist.

After Izzies parents were arrested and kidnapped, she was transported in a black van together with other girls. Everybody at an age between thirteen and eighteen. Someone brought them in this old, dilapidated house where Miss Adler and Sebastian Moran had already awaited them. There they had had to stand in a row side by side.

Thus Isabel had learnt about one of Sebastian Morans talents: he was not only a good marksman, boozer and bully, but also a man who traded with young girls and moreover, had a distinctive weakness for young women.

They were all daughters of members of the opposition.

Each of them carried the spark which their parents had lit in them.

There was the will, never to give in.

It was this spark which Moriarty wanted to suffocate.

Moran was more than willing to help, because something yielded for him.

He had grinned dirtily and Irene Adler had stood beside him. She explained to them to take good care of each other and to pay attention as long as they would be here.

All of the girls had realized quickly why they were here. Moriarty had decided to punish them all in the greatest possible way for the behaviour of their parents, while he had taken everything away from the girls there were two things that remained: their dignity and their pride.

Isabel had always put her foot in people's mouth, which was why she had been put up against Moran. She had been the strongest limb in the group and Moran knew, if he broke her the others would be a child's play.

He sealed her destiny with it. Really Moran got to humiliate her, but not to break her.

Irene Adler was the one who took them under her wing after Moran's care under and taught them how they had to behave with him the next times. Subconsciously Isabel touched her right upper arm. The scars of the riding crop were still visible after such a long time.

Moreover, Miss Adler made a selection of girls, who should pleasure men from Moriarty's sphere among them Isabel. The others had to try her luck on the street.

Isabel tried to suppress these thoughts. Still after five years she could not bring herself to accept this truth. She was not the scared girl anymore. Isabel lost this kind of identity when she was brought to the Cathouse.

Quick she had learnt that she could not allow herself to her destiny which was why she attacked Moran's men who had been to the marking there, and not only Moran's men were attacked by Izzie but also Irene Adler.

The result was that she was put under drugs and tamed with it temporarily, until one day a possibility for the escape arose.

When Isabel had fled, she had had to leave behind people and to look for them now.

Carefully she pushed around a street corner and already saw the first girls who waited side by side for suitors.

Isabel stepped slowly closer to a blond girl who stood freezing on the roadside. She wore a short, black skirt and a red top from which her black lace bra peeped. Her legs were in a pair of black boots.

„Hello, Mary.", Isabel said as she reached her.

„Isabel! What are you doing here?", Mary' green eyes widened.

„Just wanted to know how it's going.", she nodded to her.

„Well so far, you should not be here! Today Irene Adler is here and she is not in a good mood.", answered Mary fast.

„What then? Has someone broken her riding crop finally? A thing which I should have done before my departure.", Isabel growled quietly.

„I do not know, she seems to be a little nervous. I don't want to say it but you should not come here for a while Isabel, if they caught you you get a free ride to Pentonville or something worse.", uncertain the young woman started to pull out a package of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket. Quickly she set the cigarette alight.

„You know that I have promised to help you.", Isabel looked at her and watched how Mary blew out blue smoke.

„Of course, but Izzie: now I am nearly nineteen years old and nothing will change. They'll take me from this establishment just to another. I envy you for the fact that you have made it, however, for us down here nothing changes.", she sucked once more at her cigarette.

„I'm working on it Mary."

„Really?", she pulled up her brow.

„Yes.", Isabel nodded.

Mary looked at her: „I hope you know what you're doing."

Suddenly both heard the noise of heels on the asphalt and Izzie saw how from the side road behind the freezing girls a woman stepped.

„Izzie go, please.", Mary pressed out.

Isabel nodded and then started to go slowly backwards before she turned round.

Immediately she had recognised the woman: she had pinned up, black hair, a nearly snow-white skin and blood-red made up lips. Her bluish grey eyes sparkled when she stepped around the corner. Her figure was flawless and she wore a skintight white dress under her black coat. The pumps on her feet were impertinently high and Isabel hoped secretly she would snap and break her neck.

„Hello, my kittens, are you diligent?", her voice purred.

„Yes, Miss Adler.", said a young woman.

„Wonderful. Mary Morstan, my love...", Irene moved up closer to Mary, while Isabel disappeared around the corner where she eavesdropped on the conversation.

„Miss Adler?", she sounded scared.

„To whom have you just talked there, my little one?", Isabel peered around the corner and saw how Irene Adler outstretched her hand to Mary's cheek.

„Only some git...", Mary jumped little.

„Really?", the woman pulled up her eyebrows.

„I have sent away him...", Izzie felt that Mary was nervous.

„Mary, Mary, Mary... how often should I tell you not lie to me?", Irene asked her softly. Too soft. The woman was menacingly quiet.

„I...", Mary wanted to begin but was interrupted by a violent clapping. Miss Adler had given her resounding slap.

„Oh Mary, I wish I would not always have to be so roughly to you. Sooner or later we'll get her... we can't afford any legends about successful escape attempts. By the way, James Moriarty wants two girls for this evening, I think you will have to deal with this. Chose yourself who will be going with you.", the velvet-soft voice of the dominatrix explained, trying to suffocate Mary with her words.

„Miss Adler, please. I'll go alone if you allow me to. Voluntarily, please.", she pleaded.

Isabel swallowed: she had had once the pleasure with Jim Moriarty. He was crueler than Moran and a sadist. Some didn't survive his company or were seriously injured. Isabel knew that she had had luck.

„No little one. He wants two girls. Do you understand?", with her red-varnished fingers of her right hand Irene grabbed Mary's cheeks so that she briefly panted.

„Yes...", she answered quietly and her voice trembled. Isabel meant to see tears gleaming in her eyes. Presumably she was afraid, afraid to death.

„By the way, next time you see her, send all my love to Isabel Williams. I would love to invite her for tea. We have so much to talke about..."

Isabel swallowed. How did Irene Adler know that she had been there?

„How did you...?", Mary started to ask.

„My dear Mary, the swing of her hips I would recognise that any time. Really a pity that she has to be on the run, she could have it so much better. Now go inside, we want to pretty you up a little and you still have to choose your company...", giggled the woman amused.

Isabel had to hold herself back not to attempt to play the heroine, otherwise she would have tried to take Mary away from here.

Quietly, she pushed herself further into the lane. She had to leave as fast as possible. Izzie was sorry that she had to let down Mary.

One day Isabel had sworn to herself, everyone who harmed them would pay for their sins!

* * *

Meanwhile, Mycroft kept his word. Anthea brought the file of Isabel Williams to Baker Street at noon. Mrs Hudson received the envelope and Anthea disappeared as fast as she had come, presumably because of Sherlock's disparaging comments about her varying male friends.

„Here Sherlock, a letter for you.", she called up the stairs.

„I give it to him, thank you Mrs. Hudson.", John came in the kitchen and took the envelope from her.

„What's wrong with you today?", the old lady asked and was shaking her head.

„He has a case.", smiled John

„This is wonderful, but tell him please that I am his landlady and not his housekeeper.", sighed Mrs Hudson and disappeared again in her sitting room, while John took the stairs to the flat.

He sat squatted, in coat and scarf, in the armchair and seesawed worriedly and back.

„Here, it just arrived.", John passed the bundle of paper to him.

„What took you so long?", Sherlock nagged while he took the tore at tack that was holding the pages together in the envelope and started to pick the papers up as they fell.

„You could have come downstairs and picked it up yourself. Why the hell did you tear it apart?", John shook his head clearly confused and watched how Sherlock arranged the papers on the floor.

„I just wasn't really able to find out any information about Miss Williams and before you say something: she was really fast. She has learnt something on the street, that's for sure. Now I will arrange the papers in an correct order. Mycroft's way of ordering such documents is messy.", he turned them without looking at the confused John next to him and fished the a page from the pile.

„Messy? They are ordered after the file number.", it was difficult for him to follow Sherlock's idea.

„Properly, but do these numbers tell us something about our girl on the run? No! So I arranged them after the kind of her offences.", he smiled excitedly and rubbed his hands briefly like a child.

„They were ordered chronological."

„Don't be stupid John! We have thefts and burglaries on this side, which she has comitted. They stretch through her small career and I am seriously impressed, she is really clever. On this side we have her biography: Parents arrested five years ago and then imprisoned in re-education measures, finally disappeared, while she was imprisoned in a community home. Moreover, Mycroft was right: she was violent there, but I would presume she has defended herself or has declared her wish for freedom.", explained Sherlock.

„How do you get on?", Watson asked him.

As a result Sherlock bent forward and took up a sheet on the ground and passed it to him:

„Have a look at where she has served a sentence and who the responsible person was."

John studied the official form and saw, finally, what Sherlock meant: a home in Soho that was examined by a certain Irene Adler.

„She has made it far."

„Oh yes, now she is the guardian of the lost girls. A dominatrix who runs a community home. That is something absolutely funny.", Sherlock made an amused sound.

„From all the people in this world, I would never entrust Irene Adler a heap of young girls.", sighed John and returned the slip of paper to his friend .

„Whatever takes place at this home, I think Miss Williams did well to defend herself.", believed Sherlock and reached for another slip of paper.

„We shouldn't talk to Irene Adler personally. That woman has this weakness for you...", answered John fast.

„I should not have saved her in Karachi...that was dull.", murmured of the Consulting Detective.

„It was noble-minded, enarmored and stupid.", John answered brief.

„Thanks John.", said Sherlock drily.

„You're welcome, Here...", John bent down and took up another sheet.

„Oh yes, the list of people she knows.", nodded Sherlock.

„There is an Eric Winters on the list, apparently a friend of hers.", John looked at the list.

„I know. Lives in Greenwich.", answered the detective.

„Maybe we could question him, certainly he harbours her.", said the doctor fast.

„And he risks everything to help her. There are also entries about visits from the police at his flat, but they never got them. If she was with him and that's what I assume, then both are a well-functioning team. I would reject something like that.", Sherlock shurgged. His blue eyes were gleaming.

„I had expected this."

„John, nobody stiry voluntarily Moran's wrath."

„For some people values like friendship and loyalty still count, not everybody is debauched. You know my point: friends protect you when you are in need. ", answered John fast.

„Yes John, I know your naive position to these things. Let's pay Mr. Winters a visit..", they were just two hours back and Sherlock already hurried to the door.

Head-shaking John followed him.


	6. Chapter 6

**And here I proudly present my newest chapter :) Special thanks goes out for my lovely Beta daisherz365, please read her stuff, she writes great stories. Please read and review, reviews really put a smile on my face. Thanks to everyone who favourited and followed this story.**

**Up to the next chapter...**

6.

Isabel sat in Eric's culinary table and based her aching head on her hands.

The lock at the front door clicked and her best friend entered the hall, dressed in jeans and a grey hoodie. He worked as a paramedic at Saint Barts. At the moment he had short layers, which allowed him to return home for lunch.

„I thought you did not want to come home early.", he said as he sat down next to her.

„Do you have anything against headaches?", Izzie asked him.

„Yes, I do. What has happened Izzie that you have headaches?", Eric went to one of his wall cupboards and brought out a packet of pain relieving tablets and passed them to her, before he also brought her a cup of water.

„Sherlock Holmes happened...", she growled before washing down a tablet.

„Excuse me?", Eric asked while he took off his jacket.

„Yes, we just had the extremely unconventional first date and before you ask, I almost won.", she said sulking.

„What do you mean by 'almost won' ? Has Raz blabbed on you? ", he asked and sat down towards her.

Isabel gave him a grumpy look: „No he didn't, he even wanted to help me and camouflaged me as his customer. Unfortunately, Sherlock Holmes is really as clever as he was described in the papers. Against him his brother's security ministry is a dilettante's association."

Eric grinned: „Did he not want to let you go ?"

„He was after me and I think I nearly tricked him and his strange friend, this Watson had to leap to his defense.", she passed on and wheezed.

„Wait a minute, you're trying to tell me John Watson sweeped you off your feet?", laughed Eric.

„This is not witty, however, he didn't... but that's what I did to him.", she said proudly.

„I assume you ran away and then?", he smiled at her softly.

„Then I fell down right in the middle of the crossroad and a truck nearly ran me over.", continued Izzie. Slowly her headache decreased.

„I beg your pardon?", again he looked at her horrified

„It would have nearly gone awry if Mr. Holmes had not saved me quite noble minded", she admitted meekly.

„Just a minute: he let you go?"

„Yes, Watson wanted to see whether I am injured, but I'm fine well except of these corrosive headaches.", nodded Isabel.

„You know if you have an untreated concussion, this can be very dangerous.", Eric explained to her.

„Yes Mr. paramedic I know, Dr. Watson also said something like that.", Isabel shrugged.

„You should listen to medical advice.", her friend grinned to her.

„Really funny."

„You still have the data, don't you?", he further asked.

„Of course. I have decided that they are best with me after all. May I use your laptop?", finally, she got up.

„It's in the sitting room, help yourself.", Eric nodded to her.

With that she got up and disappeared in the sitting room.

„Do I get a coffee?", she shouted few minutes later.

„Do I look like a barista?", Eric sighed.

„Please!", it came back begging.

He sighed and brought out a cup from the cupboard as well as the tin with the coffee powder.

Just in the moment when he started to make coffee, the doorbell rang.

Quickly he ran in the sitting room and laid a finger on his lips. Isabel understood his gesture immediately.

„Just a moment!", Eric called as he closed door of the living room and rushed to the front door.

A moment he listened whoever stood before the door, but both voices itself outside in subdued tone argued, however they were no one he knew of.

Carefully Eric opened the door.

„Just leave the talking to me!", the smaller blond man hissed to the dark-haired man beside him .

„How can I help you?", Eric asked and realized immediately who stood before him.

He knew John Watson from the hospital and the other, well who did not know him?

„Eric Winters? I am John Watson, this is Sherlock Holmes. May we ask you a few questions?", Watson began friendly.

Immediately Eric stepped forward: „I may get to know what it is about?"

„This morning we had a small collision with Isabel Williams and we would like to speak with her.", continued his opponent.

„I cannot help you, gentlemen. I have not seen Isabel in a while now.", he looked alternately to Sherlock and John, while he tried not to look convulsively at the ground.

„Is it very difficult?", wanted Sherlock Holmes to know.

„What do you mean?"

„Mr Winters, you are lying.", began the Detective.

„Sherlock...", John wanted to appease him.

„We know each other for only a few seconds, sir, and you accuse me of lying?", Eric was a little outraged.

„No I don't suspend it, I do know it. You are worried, your pupils are widened a little and you try tensely not to look on the floor. Do I still have to continue or do you tell us directly where to find Miss Williams? ", said Sherlock.

„Of course I have seen her, but she is not here and I would welcome it if you both leave as fast as possible.", Erik barked at him.

„If you please excuse him, he can be a little insensitive sometimes. We know what Miss William has done and that she trusts you. We only want to help. She is really in trouble!", John talked fast.

„Listen to me: Isabel is my family and I will protect my family! She is not here and I wouldn't lie to you and even if she were here it would be none of your business. Isabel has had enough annoyance in her life. Whatever she has done: the only way you will get to her is over me!", said the young man resolutely.

„Really moving...", Sherlock wheezed and John threw an irritated look in his direction.

„Believe me, we are the last who want to harm her but as long as she runs away she is in great danger."

„I still want to get revenge for the garbage cans.", Sherlock threw in.

„Garbage cans?", asked Eric confused.

„Yes she has rolled two garbage cans in his way and with that she has damaged his ego for the rest of the day.", laughed John.

„I would love to give some comfort , but I had to take over the night shift of a colleague and I would like to rest.", with that Eric wanted to close the door.

„Mr. Winters, do not behave stupider than you are. Behind you on the ground I can see Miss William shoes. These are the same outworn Chucks she wore this morning. The door to your sitting room is , as far as I can see, closed which means that you do not want that I have a look in there, moreover, you make coffee and that contradicts your statement before that you want to rest, unless you have a guest who asked for a cuppa. If you liked to know how I know that she presumably sleeps in your cellar or leave me purely with her. Don't worry, I will not take her, I suppose Miss William would not come with me willingly and would rather, tug and bite.", Sherlock pushed Eric aside and stepped in the hall.

„Hey! Which part '_you rather go now_' didn't you understand?", Isabel heard Eric shouting, while steps approached the sitting room. So had no time to hide herself: the laptop stood on her upper thighs, the shoes were in the hall and her head still roared. Isabel was in the absolute right constitution to play mind games with a consulting detective.

„You know, after your pitiful attempts to keep me from entering your flat purely I have to confess that I failed to hear you.", answered a deep and bored voice. Then the door was thrown open and Isabel briefly winced.

„Coffee black, two sugars.", said Sherlock Holmes to Eric without looking at him.

„Isabel I'm sorry...", he began.

„It's alright Eric, it's not your problem it if there are people who have forgotten their good manners. Get him the coffee and I think I'll finish the rest alone.", Isabel grinned to her friend.

John Watson also came to the sitting room: „I really apologise. We have to talk with you. This is not how it was intended!"

„Oh don't worry Mr. Watson, I think Mr. Holmes and I should have a tête-à-tête. Eric would you please offer Doctor Watson a coffee? We do not want your guests thinking that you are a horrific host.", Isabel told Eric. Afterwards she took the flashdrive from the computer. Sherlock's looks followed each of her movements.

„Come on Mr. Watson.", Eric nodded in the direction of the kitchen.

„Do you have something stronger then coffee?", she heard John asking Eric.

„Oh Mr Watson, I think I got what you need.", then both went to the kitchen.

By that time Sherlock still stood in the door and stared at Isabel.

She pushed the cap over the connector of the storage device.

„Do you intend to stand there the whole time or do you wish to sit down and we talk?", Isabel asked him and grinned. It was the sitting room that belonged to her best friend and with it was sort of her home. This was her territory and he had to play after her rules.

„You have the data here?", he ascertained while he placed himself towards her in an armchair.

„Oh, you do know about it...", Isabel laughed amused.

Eric walked in and put a coffee mug in front of Sherlock on the sitting room table, then he gave Isabel a reproachful look. At the door he turned around once again and made a look at Holmes with a sharp breath in Isabel's direction. A safe sign that Eric found him attractive.

Izzie grinned back and then scrolled with her eyes. Then he disappeared again.

„Charming this small communication. I reckon that Mr Winters finds that I'm a good catch?", the Detective took the coffee and sipped at it.

„Just a question of taste.", she answered to him and held the flashdrive still in her hand.

„Men are not exactly your area, am I right? That's why he wanted to encourage you, didn't he?", Sherlock looked at her checking.

Puzzled she looked at him into his light blue eyes: „Are you here because of my love life?"

„Oh, actually not nice that you mentioned it: Men make you nervous, I can see it in the way how you have squatted on the sofa what could be a sign for the reason that you have made some disagreeable experiences, moreover, you always clasp after the data stick because you need to hold on to something. In addition you wear very unobtrusive clothes, as if you did not want to be perceived. Unusual for a woman your age. Mister Winters is gay I guess? It is not quite wise to show me that you carry the data with you. Could you please save us both from an embarrassing interrogative response game and just hand them to me directly.", he smiled at her winning.

„Eric is a very good friend whether gay or not, it is none of your concern. Same goes for my relations to men. Unfortunately, the data belongs to me and if you want some then please go to your brother and ask him. Otherwise I suggest, he gets his butt in gear and make his way over here himself for a small conversation. As long as that takes, I will take good care of them.", Isabel showed him the small silver device and put it in the neckline right into her bra and she did not let him out of sight. Her idea was to provoke him but his reaction was far more different than she had expected.

„Extremely theatrically. My brother was certain I would find you quicker than New Scotland Yard. I do not think it would be conductive if you and my brother meet. Just believe me when I say that talks with Mycroft are unpleasant, boring and they lead you nowhere. Still I must pass on the fact, that they are stolen goods and you should hand them over. Mycroft said something about the 'national security' and I don't want to stand between law and order. ", Sherlock leant over to her.

Without losing his look Isabel started to grin: „As I already said, he gets the data back only to my conditions and if he does not do this, there will be an extremely interesting presentation on Piccadilly Circus for the residents of London which will show them how the government and the ministry of security are interpreting law and order."

„Are you threatening my brother? This is silly.", Sherlock stared at her.

„From me you get nothing at all, Mr Holmes. I could offer you to get the data yourself, but I do not want to come to the embarrassment and to make the mistake and hurt these really fascinating cheek bones, or to break your nose because you cannot keep your fingers to yourself.", she warned him ready to prove what she just said.

„Nothing is more far from mind than to touch you. You will not make it far.", came his words back chilly.

„I hardly believe this. It is just a statement, moreover, I do not threaten your brother. The only thing I want are neutral negotiations."

„Neutral negotiations? You have been on the run for many years, you've robbed my brother and now you want that he does not look for you? I really thought you were cleverer than that.", the man with the dark curly hair summarised.

„Your brother should be glad that I do not disclose this data...at least not yet.", she looked him directly in the eyes to tried to hide her surprise.

„Miss Williams, you do not honestly believe that you could betray me or my brother? It won't work", growled Sherlock.

„It would be a deception if I denied the whole thing, but that wouldn't make sense right?"

„Very good. I know more about you than you can imagine.", he grinned.

„Oh really?", Isabel acted as if she were surprised.

„Oh yes, Mycroft was so kind to hand me over your file and the rest was child's play. You are the daughter of Christopher Williams and his wife Anna. I know that you ran away for five years from Moriarty's men and have escaped Moran several times. Men are not completely your area, I notice how you cramp up, what shows me that your experiences were not best ones. I suppose this year in the community home has turned this position into a considerable contribution. May I point out that the hiding place you have selected is not the best? How often has the police already been here? I would estimate this week at least twice and this will not become less during the next days. Completely apart from that Mr. Winters taste is not of conventional. If James Moriarty supposes to follow up its politics concerning homosexual citizens, Mr Winters arrest will be only a matter of time. I would estimate that my brother is the smallest of your problems. ", with relish he took a sip of his coffee.

„Really great how you try to care about me...", murmured Isabel sarcastically.

„Oh no. The fact that Eric and you are close was easy to catch. He made that clear right at the door. His comment about family was extremely helpful. Am I right in the assumption that you two have acted as the happy couple for the neighbours?", Sherlock gained the momentum.

„Mind your own friggin business!", growled Isabel.

„.It was not crowned by success, right? He does not have a thing for young women and you...", he took a breath for the final blow as Isabel furiously jumped up.

„One more comment, Holmes and believe me, it would become very uncomfortable!", she hissed.

„Ridiculous! You may be quick, but you would rather break your hand than to injure me and I do not want to be responsible for such a thing.", he said amused.

„Go be..", Isabel felt them the control of the conversation lost.

„My brother has asked me to bring them to him. Fortunately, I do not find any interests in it.", said Sherlock and he got up, which led Isabel to him to look up at him.

„Should I applaud now?", its voice had a mocking undertone.

„No, it would suffice to me if you give me the flashdrive. There are more important things to do, as we waste our time with arguing. If you give it to me, John and I will leave and then be on our way. Our paths should never cross again.", Sherlock said with its deep baritone voice.

„As I already said, it is my reassurance. You get nothing at all! But you are right: I also do not hope that our ways cross once again.", she answered bored.

„This is your last word?", Sherlock looked at her questioningly.

„Yes, it is this!", she wanted to sound determined, but her voice trembled.

„You should be more persuasive."

„How could I? What would happen if your brother and I were having this conversation? Wouldn't I rather be arrested by Moran's men at the end of the negotiations? Please forgive me that I have lost my trust in some organs of government.", Isabel panted shortly for air.

„I cannot blame you, while this country is led by psychopaths and idiots. Of course I do not know what would happen if you talked to my brother, but it would be wiser to give up. Believe me, my brother is no man who strikes a compromise. By chance I know that he also wants to speak with you. He said, you would be in need of his advice.", it sounded like a casual remark .

„I do not need Mycroft Holmes' advice, thank you very much!", wheezes Isabel and her hair over her shoulder.

„Consider it. I'm sure you know where I live.", Sherlock slipped over his Belstaff and fastened his blue scarf.

„221 B Baker Street every child in London knows about that.", she said snippy.

„Brilliant Miss Williams, you're really astounding me"", he nodded to her and opened the door to the sitting room.

John and Eric sat in the kitchen and Eric watched how the doctor at his table washed down a glass of Scotch.

„Better, Doctor Watson?", he asked him.

„What? Me? Yes... I'm better now.", he nodded.

„It pleases me very much to hear that I could help. Tell me is Mr. Holmes always so determined?", asked Eric further.

„Believe me, he is just warming up", sighed John.

For a moment they were quiet.

„And you both are...?", began John, but stopped.

„We are what?", Eric smiled as he took John's glass and put it in the sink.

„Well, you know...", the blond man started flushing.

„Oh you mean if Izzie and I are sleeping togehter? Well no, don't worry. She is young, pretty and single if this is what you wanted to know. The only thing I can't tell you if you're her type. Does it not bother you that your boyfriend is alone with her in the sitting room for such a long time?", laughed the young man.

„My boyfriend?", John looked at him irritated.

„Come on, you live together or am I mistaken?", Eric seemed to enjoy his postion.

„Oh no! He is my roommate, but not in this manner if you understand what I want to say.", John became smaller and smaller in his chair.

„What a pity I wanted to ask you on a date.", answered his opponent.

„You're gay?", John seemed to be surprised.

„Being honest which heterosexual man wouldn't get in mischief with a woman like Isabel sleeping in his cellar? Sorry for being so indelicate.", he looked checking on Watson's face who looked immediately to ground.

„I'm just kidding. Isabel is my best friend and my family. If anything happened to her, it would break my heart. Yes, I play for the other team. I am surprised that I was quite wrong with you and your companion.", explained Eric to him and winked at John.

„Oh, I am not gay. Sherlock is married to his work. We only share one flat.", Johns voice sounded nervous and his cheeks turned red.

„Don't worry, I do not have the intention to jump your bones right now. I am only a little concerned to tell the truth about Isabel in the sitting room.", said Eric and looked along John.

„Sherlock will do nothing to her except crush her ego.", just at this moment the sitting room door flew open and Sherlock went purposefully to the front door.

„Do me a favour and don't stand in my way!", Isabel followed him furiously.

„It seems like you have forgotten our small conversation! I would also like to avoid another meeting with pleasure. Thanks for the coffee, Mister Winters", he called to Eric.

„Do you really think that I will abandoned my convictions from now on?!", Isabel shouted at him.

„You are in your early twenties, of course these convictions will change!", laughed Sherlock and saw how Isabel became more and more furious.

„You haughty dirty swine! You do not know me at all and you are only your brother's messenger!", she wanted to grab him and to give him a trouncing but Eric was there to keep her from doing it.

„Don't Izzie, he is not worth it...", he whispered to her.

„I apologise for his behaviour. Sherlock, we need to go.", they heard Watson say as he pushed Sherlock out.

the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

**So this is finally chapter 7! I really hope you'll like it. Thanks a lot to my beta Daisherz365 for her fantastic work and to all who read, review, followed and favourited :) That really makes me so happy!**

**And thanks to jambatch from tumblr who created a really nice cover for this fiction! Go read her blog on tumblr to see her amazing work!**

**Enjoy the new chapter and please leave a review, that will make me smile :)**

**I need to tell you that I think about putting up the rating from T to M, if there are any opinions on that please leave a comment ;)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Izzie,Eric and Katie!**

7.

„This haughty poser! If he gets in my way once again...", Isabel was angry.

„Calm down please, he was cute.", grinned Eric.

„Cute?! Eric, the guy held a gun to my head in your living room. He thinks of me as a silly girl from the street who has no idea of what she got herself into!", she crossed her arms, before she went into the sitting room to grab her jacket.

„Where do you want to go now?", Eric asked her.

„Out! I wanna pin Holmes' ass on the next wall!", she said and wanting to run in the direction of the door.

„No, now you have to come down again!", he grabbed her shoulders.

„Eric, do not position yourself in my way!", she growled at him.

„Oh and if you run out there to punch his fascinating cheek bones do you think this would help you? If the police gets you, you'll be done and you know this!", he answered quietly.

„He wanted to convince me with his little magic trick to go to his brother.", she wheezed.

„So he is not the dream guy?", Eric smiled and waved in the direction of the kitchen.

„We discussed that subject last night more than in detail. He is cute but a haughty bag with a monstrous ego and I do not like him! He interferes with my problems and that's what he shouldn't. I don't give a shit if he is Mycroft Holmes' brother or Santa Claus' best friend!", Isabel hissed back.

„His friend John Watson is at least a nice guy and I believe it was important to him that his occupant crossed the line.", Eric took John's glass and started to wash it in the sink.

„I make no reproach to John Watson. If I meet Sherlock Holmes once again, I will presumably go for his throat.", Isabel crossed her arms over her chest.

„You are so taken with him.", her friend laughed while he started to dry up the glasses.

„Really funny."

„It was frightfully embarrassing for our John that I flirted with him", her friend laughed.

„You're not serious!", Isabel mouth was open. She knew how with pleasure how Eric liked to coquet with his homosexuality, that he flirted with a stranger and when he did so flat out was new to Izzie.

„Of course! I believe our bachelor wanted to ask you out on a date and wanted to know if I am your boyfriend."

Isabel laughed: „This is sweet, besides, John Watson is not my type. Small, blond, pale, soldier... completely not what a lady of my age prefers."

„It was important to him that he and our Consulting Detective are only friends and roommates. To sum it up: he is in his late thirties, single, lives in the subsoil and would have nothing against a coffee with an underground activist.", Eric teased her further.

„I seem to be a right man's magnet: Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in less than 24 hours. I estimate this is not bad, for somebody who had her last date two years ago. ", Isabel thought out loud.

„We had our last date twelve months ago.", her friend expressed outrage.

„Eric, this wasn't a dates, it was the difficult attempt to let us fly under Moriarty's radar and to prevent you from ending up in the next education camp and me being with Moran and Irene Adler again.", she put her head thoughtfully aside.

„I only wanted to help and kissing you was...", Eric started but she interrupted him.

„To kiss you was really really good the first time and later it was awkward. Let's be honest: you are my best friend who fancies the guys like me. Well, I'm so glad that our friendship survived this experiment.", she came over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder.

„You are right.", he turned the head to her.

Isabel quickly bent over and kissed his cheek.

„What was that for?", Eric looked at her in amazement.

„That was for always being there always when I need you and for not freaking out when I go out on the streets.", she puckered up her mouth nervously and shut her eyes for a moment.

„Isabel William! You are absolutely crazy!", it erupted from him.

„Today Mary has a date with Moriarty! I have to know if she's fine afterwards.", she defended herself.

„Mary who?", he asked unbelievingly.

„Mary Morstan, we were together at the community home. I fled, she remained. Today she has to pleasure Moriarty together with another girl. We both know that she will presumably not survive this encounter.", she bit her lip.

"Izzie...", Eric's voice sounded concerned.

„I'll go at the begin of the curfew. I suppose they are in the Ritz. It's Moriarty's favorite place if he has a girl for the night. The staff is discrete and already accustomed to the fact that he always leaves uncomfortable mud.", she wheezed briefly and looked to the ground.

She watched Eric for a moment.

„Are you sure that you don't wanna tell me what has happened five years ago?"

„I want to forget this...", she murmured and it seemed like tears were standing in her eyes.

„Always saying what happened is not a solution. Sometime it will come ruthlessly to your face and will be more painful than it is now", Eric pleaded.

„If I wanted to hear your advice, Dr. Freud, I would have asked for it.", she growled and turned herself away from him.

„Running away leads you nowhere!", shouted Eric after her from the kitchen.

„You have generally no idea!", Isabel shouted at him while she pulled on her shoes and slipped on her jacket.

„Exactly, therefore, I ask you! I have no notion what has happened to you! When you came out of it, you were not the Izzie I knew! What has been done with you?", Eric followed her into the hall.

„She has died, Eric! This has happened! The Izzie with whom you went to school, who skipped courses or who smoked secretly with you doesn't exist any more!", then she heaved the pocket over her shoulder.

„My God! I am not your enemy!", he yelled after her as she slammed the front door behind her and left him irritated in the kitchen.

„Diogenes club, John!"

„Do you really want to meet in public with Mycroft?", John gave Sherlock an unbelieving look through the rear-view mirror.

„This is not the public it's in an exclusive Gentlemen's club, John, which has speech ban rules since his foundation.", grinned Sherlock.

„And there sit only loyal followers of Moriarty."

„Who have to shut up.", he sounded contented.

„Sherlock, please...", John wanted to express his outrage.

„Don't be silly John and drive.", he said back.

It did not last long and John stopped in the back entrance of the Gentlmen's. Though Sherlock had demanded to go in in front, however, John decided that it was better to enter the club through the staff entrance.

Though the Detective grumbled, he did not interfer with his friend's decision.

It was slowly getting dark. The sun had already disappeared behind the houses of Westminster when Sherlock and John pushed through the back door.

It did not take them long to reach Mycroft's room.

„My God, family visit in the club. Have you become possibly sentimental now?!", sighed the older Holmes as he saw how his brother dropped himself into his armchair. Mycroft himself sat at an antique desk with a glass of Scotch.

„Not in the slightest. Nevertheless, Mycroft.", he grinned at him.

„ Have you found Miss William?"

„Indeed, and the young lady is not very cooperative. She wants to negotiate."

„I do not negotiate with criminals, Sherlock.", Mycroft got up and walked to his brother. John stood a little bit indecisively in the door. For one moment he thought of leaving them alone but then he realised they were nearing the next big argument.

„This would be new to me.", Sherlocks ice-blue eyes turned to Mycroft.

„Oh please, I do not want to have this conversation with you any more!", he hissed back.

„Miss William has the data, she sends her compliments and she said you should move your bottom to her to get back them. I fear I am powerless because I would like to renounce, that the young lady breaks her wrists by the attempt to punch me.", Sherlock twitched his shoulders.

„And since when do you follow the instructions of young, under-qualified women?", Mycroft shook his head.

„Damage limitation, Mycroft."

„Ridiculous, tell me where she is and I will take manners into my own hands.", he reached for his umbrella.

„Oh please, the only thing you'll do is bore Miss Williams to death.", it came back sarcastically.

„What do you want here?"

„I want to know what goes down in your community homes. It seems to me as if they are hatcheries for political activism.", Sherlock looked at him.

„I do not know what you mean.", Mycroft played stupid.

„Mycroft, you know exactly what I mean. What kind of data has she stolen?", he would stick to his gun until Mycroft would tell him the truth.

John just wanted to say something from the background that Sherlock should leave his brother be when Mycroft started to form an answer.

„Datas which endanger the national security, Sherlock.", the older one of the Holmes' brothers became impatient and John could feel this.

„Mycroft, do I have to call mother, so you start talking? She won't be pleased", threatened Sherlock.

„You have no idea little brother! If this information comes to public the security of the british state is in danger and will provide chaos!", his opponent defended himself.

„Is it not already too late for that?", John interrupted them.

„Dr. Watson, do not talk about things that you probably do not understand! ", Mycroft started him.

„Mycroft!", Sherlock reminded his brother.

For a moment it seemed like the elder Holmes was searching for the right words before he found his voice again: „What I tell you now , could have an extreme explosive effect. Miss William has brought data in her possession which shows how Moriarty handles people who oppose him. Especially with young ladies and also with homosexuals. Moreover, they show the torture of opposition members in special camps. I think Miss William wants to buy herself free with it and achieve that her name disappears from all the files.", finished Mycroft.

„Could you please define extreme hardness? Please, dear brother, enlighten me, I would be pleased!", growled Sherlock.

„I do not know. Nobody knows what he exactly does to the people in his camps. There are merely rumours and whispering.", continued the minister.

„What do you mean with whispering?", Sherlock's look pierced him.

„Strokes, psychic terror, drugs and presumably also sexual assaults.", Mycroft enumerated.

„Sounds lovely.", commented John.

„Who is responsible for the community homes?", asked Sherlock.

„You already know the answer Sherlock: Irene Adler and Sebastian Moran have been entrusted with this job. They look after the homes together, while Moran also looks after the camps in the country. Miss Adler merges in her job and I think her partner is more than willing to discipline the imprisoned girls. We all know that Moran's appetite is exquisite: only women who are very young. This is a pattern in which the daughters of members of the opposition fit very well. You know Moran and his people, these are no men who take 'no' for an answer. They are a dangerous, even for Moriarty, but he trusts his _Seby_ so that he does not notice which empire Moran establishes in front of his nose.", he rested on his umbrella.

„Adler and Moran work together and are responsible for the whole programme. If it came out what happens in there, demonstrations and mayhem are not to be prevented any more.", Sherlock quitted the thought.

„That's the way it is. The country would fall into pieces and this can't be in Miss Williams interest. Presumably she also wants to know what has happened to her parents. However, their rage is also directed against me and my ministry but my hands are tied. If Moriarty and Moran find her, her days will be numbered. Should you meet her once again, tell her I am ready to talk to her and also enlighten that she is in danger! ", Mycroft seemed to be nervous.

„You are concerned, aren't you?", John stated in surprise.

„Christopher Williams was a good man, I have promised in case of his arrest to have an eye on his daughter. During her stay in the community home and her escape she has slipped out of my view and her crimes put me unfortunately on the side of her opponents. Moriarty and Moran do not know yet that some one has gotten through my security system and if they find out, I'll have to answer some questions.", answered the man with the umbrella.

Astonishment spread out not only to Johns face, but also on that of Sherlock:

„I am probably not the most appropriate choice as a nanny . It is not my problem if you offer your services to criminals.", it promptly came back.

„I beg your pardon!", Mycroft objected.

„She is clever, quick, cheeky and extremely arrogant.", continued Sherlock and jumped up.

„Then she marches you perfectly.", growled his brother.

„Christopher William must be turning over in his grave by the thought that he has laid the welfare of his daughter in the hands of a collaborator.", he said drily.

„Sherlock...", John reminded his friend.

„Oh come on ...", he began John interrupted him again.

„I understand you properly Mycroft, so your wish is that we should pay attention to Miss William?", he frowned.

„If the opportunity arises...", nodded the minister.

„This is ridiculous!", sounded Sherlock.

„Your headstrong behaviour is ridiculous!"

„We'll do it!", John decided quickly and saw Sherlock's irritated look.

„You have heard my brother, John. He is unable to cope with...", there was sarcasm in Mycroft's voice that no one could fail to hear.

„Alright if Miss William is in trouble and we have knowledge of it we'll help her, so that your feelings of guilt are not tormenting you!", Sherlock adjusted his coat and pushed past his brother. He exited the room as the first. John and Mycroft looked at each other.

„You have a bad conscience...", noted John.

„We all have done things we are not really proud of...", murmured Mycroft and looked to the ground.

The former army doctor nodded: „You are right. I'll talk to Sherlock, you know him: if the first annoyance has subsided he'll find a reason to do it anyway, nevertheless..."

„He can be glad to have a friend like you, Doctor Watson.", on Mycroft's lips layed one of his rare smiles.

„Good evening, Mycroft.", nodded John and followed Sherlock out of the door.

* * *

Some time later Mary Morstan sat in a saloon togther with a red-haired girl. The car took them to the Ritz. The girl had been new in the Cathouse and now she sobbed beside Mary. Both were prepared how Moriarty had ordered: short black dresses, Highheels, Makeup and black lace underwear.

„Don't worry, here goes nothing.",whispered Mary to her to.

„I never have...", the other cried.

„What's your name?", Mary wanted to know from her.

„My name is Katie.", it quietly came back.

„Okay, Katie. We go in there together and we'll get through it together. Believe me I'm just as afraid as you are but Moriarty loves to see the fear. We have to be strong.", Mary enclosed the girl's hand and Katie nodded to her.

The car held before the scratch and the driver stood by the door to open it for them.

„Why are you here?", asked Mary quickly.

„My parents have distributed pamphlets against Moriarty and have been arrested.", Katie returned.

„Damn.", murmured Mary as a response.

„Yes... Conviction in summary trial.", nodded Katie.

„Now let's go inside, take my hand.", she held it out to her and the girl accepted it thankfully.

„What will happen if he notices, that I'm still...?", she did not dare to say more to Mary from the carriage.

„Katie, I want to be honest with you: I suppose he already knows it. Miss Adler will have informed him about both of us. Now come on.", hand in hand both followed the chauffeur who had accompanied them. After a short conversation with the front desk he led the both to a suite on the third floor and then said goodbye to them.

Katie trembled in every limb and Mary tried to calm her by holding her hand: „Ready?"

But she shook her head.

Then Mary knocked.

It did not take long and a black dressed man opened the door. He seemed to be one of Moriarty's bodyguards. Quickly he ordered to them to follow him.

Behind him they entered the luxurious suite.

„Primeminister, your visitors has arrived.", said the bodyguard to a slender man with dark hair who stood near the window.

„How wonderful, you can leave now.", answered the man contently. There was no warmth in his voice, there was only spurious friendliness.

The other man nodded and then left.

When the door snapped shut, Moriarty turned around to them.

„Good evening my ladies.", said his voice mockingly. Dark eyes glowed. The black Westwood suit fitted perfectly to his body and gave him in addition a wicked radiation. Katie clung like a scared child to Mary.

Amused he looked at both: „Who of you is the virgin?", he asked happily and at the same time Mary felt an icy breath on her skin.

None of the girls replied.

„Do you not want to answer your Prime minister?", he started to walk round them and grinned. Mary threw a menacing look to him: she would rip each of his perfect hairs from his head if necessary.

„This is obviously a no. But I know it already...", now he stood behind Katie and touched her shoulder. She winced.

„Really sweet. This was easy, far too easy! You could have tried at least with me to let me think that you are not the virgin.", he whispered into Katie's ear.

Then he took her hand from Mary's clutch and whirled her around, grabbed her upper arms:

„Please... please don't...", she sobbed and pulled back her head, closed her eyes tight .

„Do not touch her!", Mary snapped.

„Or what? What will the small Mary Morstan do?", Moriarty laughed.

Mary tried to answer but she couldn't.

„Now then I tell you what will happen! Seby! Could you come over please!", shouted the man finally, and from another room of the suite a big, stocky, blond man came out.

He carried a towel around the hips and had an athletic figure. On his breast two stars were tattooed and some scars adorned his belly. The stars were a character for his contacts with the Russian mafia, Mary knew. On the street she had learnt some things about the rites of the underworld.

It was Sebastian Moran and he walked over to them.

„Jim, you have ordered presents?", he acted in amazement.

„Oh isn't it fabulous. We only have to negotiate who gets whom.", pleased Moriarty rubbed his hands.

„I can't impossibly accept this.", acted Moran - giving his friend a vicious grin.

„ Oh I insist you take this little gift! A hard working man like you sometimes needs a reward for his good work. ", James slapped Sebastian's shoulder.

„And you ordered two! You want to make the choice difficult for me, don't you?", laughed Moran.

„One of these two is a little more experienced and the other is still a virgin. I take in you wanted to wait for the 'right one', right Katie?", Moriarty stated.

Katie winced and Mary hugged the completely scrared girl and stared in the direction of both men as she tried to calm her.

„Leave her be! I will take care of both of you if you wish, but please leave Katie alone!", Mary tried to convince both.

Both men exchanged undecided looks until Moriarty hysterically started to laugh. Then he rotated her around and took Mary by the neck.

„Mary!", it slipped out of Katie.

„Charming really! You pavement princesses are so ordinary and so uncreative. No my little Mary. We will have a lot of fun tonight.", he grinned while Mary panted for air.

„Seby, have you made your choice?", he asked Moran, who nearly undressed Katie with his looks.

Then he stretched hand out to her and stroked nearly affectionately her cheek.

„Both possibilities are very tempting, James. ", he agreed in response.

„Well, then I decide. Enjoy the evening with little Katie. Miss Morstan and I will also have a lot of fun with each other, right? You can have the bedroom, I think the little one will be thankful.", he dragged a scalpel from the trouser pocket and held it to Mary's throat. At the same moment Sebastian dragged Katie after him and started to pull her from the sitting room while she shouted and desperately tried to escape. Moran slapped Katie's face.

„Please, don't! Please!", Katie begged while Moran dragged them from Mary's view.

The shouts became only quieter as Sebastian closed the door behind them, but they did not die away completely .

„Mary, you are an extremely cheeky bitch. I have already skinned people for such a thing.", James grinned at her.

„If you want that I beg then I have to disappoint you!", Mary gasped proudly.

With a hitch Moriarty pushed her onto the ground and lay himself down on her. He put the scalpel to her throat: „Believe me Mary: if I tell you you have to beg then you _will_ beg! This will be an unforgettable night. Let's have a look how long you stand the gaff. I hope very much Sebastian leaves something over of small Katie and does not devour her completely!", he laughed hysterically.

* * *

About two hours later Isabel reached the hotel. She had wandered for a while aimlessly through the city. The quarrel with Eric still gripped her marrow. Of course she was sorry, but to talk about her time in the Community Home simply did not help her. She did not want to bring it again to the surface. Of course she knew that Eric was worried about her, but what was she supposed to do?

Now it was important to her to look after Mary.

She wore the hood over her head and stood on the other side of the street. She had gotten as close as she could. Outside of the hotel it brimed over of Moran's men. It was secure sign for the fact that Moriarty and Moran were together at the hotel, having a good time.

Isabel's stomach cramped, so much that it disgusted her.

How was she able to find out if Mary was well? If she walked in the lobby she would have to deal presumably directly with at least twenty of these types. So this possibility fell out.

Maybe through the backdoor?

Too fussy, if someone noticed her, the Security would be called and at the exit Moran's men would recognise her.

She hid herself behind a delivery van and peered over and over again from her hiding place.

Warten was her best possibility.

Something better did not remain, and moreover, she knew that Moriarty wasn't afraid to let his men carry out corpses or injured girls through the front door. A good deterrence for the people who saw it. The police stood under his control and nobody questioned him.

Isabel yawned and had a look at the clock: it was short after midnight. Sighing she looked to the entrance of the Ritz where more and more people of Moran patrolled.

Worried she tapped from one foot to the other.

Her mobile rang and she took it from her pocket: it was Eric calling.

She briefly considered whether she should accept the call when at the entrance suddenly excitement seemed to rule. Izzie pushed Eric away; now he had to wait.

Now two men went hurried to the lobby and it did not last long until both came out again. Over their shoulder one of them carried something that looked from the distance like a clothes bag it, but was much more heavy it seemed.

She clasped a hand on her mouth: a corpse! Both bastards had killed either Mary or her companion, Isabel realized and it hurt.

Damn!, she had to be reserved not to kick against the sordid car.

Then suddenly there came Moran from the door and Isabel got a fright even more: in arms he held the half-naked and bloodied Mary.

„Take her back to the Cathouse and provide the fact that she stays alive!", he snarled to his men and handed one of them the girl from his arms.

Isabel tried to recognise what was wrong with Mary and ventured forward a little further.

Mary had been her anchor, in the time in the Cathouse. They had got through this together and had consoled themselves mutually. Friendship did not count a lot in this world or maybe not anymore, but for Izzie it meant an a lot!

What should she do? What was she able to do?

„Mary...", she said in a low voice and noted only now that her feet carried her from her hiding place right in Mary's direction.

Moran had noted that a slim fugure slowly approached and directed his look at her.

It lasted only the fraction of one moment and he recognised Izzie.

Both stared at each other about the distance, to Moran started to grin: „Well, well! Guess who could not resist the temptation!"

Shattered Isabel stared at him and she quietly gasped.

Now she was in trouble.

„What have you done to her!?", Isabel shouted at him.

„Nothing, but maybe we can talk upstairs about it? Only you and I, like in the days of yore.", Moran reached in the inside pocket of his coat.

„Never! You will pay for this! You all will pay!", growled Isabel and saw how now his men riveted on her.

„Gentlemen, who helps me to catch the little one successfully gets a reward. I owe him beside a drink tonight the first dance with her!", he laughed and the guys nodded grinning.

As a pack they moved towards Isabel.

As fast as she was able it to she turned around and ran off.

„Follow her!", roared Moran and ran after her. From the inside pocket of his jacket he dragged a heavy gun. A custom-built model only for him. A present from Moriarty for his loyal services.

Isabel ran. She flew nearly over the wet asphalt.

She could hear the men behind her.

Wasn't it last night and this morning that she had to flee from somebody? Was it not enough for her workout this week?!

She growled as she ran in the direction of Oxford Street. She pushed passersby to the side and dodged other obstacles elegantly.

When she rushed around the corner of Orchard Street she nearly would have been got by an approaching car, but in the last minute she pushed off with her right foot from the ground and got to jump on the bonnet and to run over it.

Moran's men briefly had to wait and let the car pass, While they cursed Isabel took her chance for a small head start.

She had the stich and her legs threatened to become tired.

Suddenly there was a loud bang behind her back. Startled she turned her head around and saw how Moran let his weapon sink. The bullet had hit a lamppost.

„The next shot does not miss!", she heard his voice behind herself.

Fear crept in her. Moran was the best marksman far and wide. She knew he would strike her.

She had to escape and she had only one chance. Isabel was surprised from herself that she considered the possibility: Baker Street was not far from here. Sherlock Holmes would like to give Moran a wipe and, on the other hand, he owed her because of his behaviour of the afternoon.

Isabel had begun panic: if Moran got hold on her she was practically dead.

Here unfortunately were no lanes or fire escapes for her to us so that she could flee.

Before her was only the shining asphalt and on her left and right only the houses.

When she ran along the Portman Square and reached before Moran and his men the crossroad that would lead her to the direction of Baker Street and crossed it before they could. Thrilled Isabel turned around to the other side of the street once again to look at her pursuers.

„Say hello to your boss for me!", she called to Moran and believed that there was enough distance between them. Then she showed Moran the middle finger. A little too reckless.

Moran dragged his weapon out again and fired another shot.

The bullett found its way over to the other side of the street and hit Isabel into her right side below her ribs. The hit allowed her to reel they for a moment, however, she did not fall down.

There was no pain. The adrenaline in her veins prevented that she felt any pain.

Nevertheless, Isabel touched the wound: on her hand was blood.

I have to go, Isabel thought. I can't stay here, I have to run and I have to hide.

From now on she was an even lighter prey.

Without paying attention to Moran she ran on. From where she took her strength she did not know, only that her feet carried now down the Baker Street.

Surprisingly Moran's men were not directly on her heels and she had been able to use her head start.

Slowly the wound started to bleed and impregnated her shirt.

In panic she searched for the numbers of the houses: 200, 202, 205... damn where was 221B?

And then suddenly beside a sandwich shop with the name the Speedy's cafe, Isabel found the entrance of 221B. Relieved Izzie sighed and dragged herself over to the door, her hand pressed on the wound.

With the last piece of strength that she had left, Izzie rang the doorbell and used twice the door doorknocker, before she leant exhausted against the doorframe. Moran's pack got closer and closer. On Izzie's forehead sweat pearls were visible and it was hard for her to keep herself on her legs.

Even as she believed the men would have reached her the door opened and Izzie tripped into the arms of an old lady: „Help me... please...", was the only one thing that she could bring herself to say, before she slumped on the ground of the hall.

„Boys! I need your help!", shouted the woman who quickly closed the door.

Then she knelt down to Isabel and enclosed her hand: „You'll get help. John, Sherlock! Please hurry she is injured!", shouted the woman once more and Izzie believed to hear fear in her voice.


	8. Chapter 8

**So and here it is finally, chapter 8. Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and favorited! I really appreciate it and it makes me happy to see that there are people out there who love this story :) I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as possible :) Shout out for my lovely Beta daisherz365! She does such a brilliant job! **

**And now please read the new chapter and leave me a review because they make me smile!**

**Disclaimer: Except my characters nothing belongs to me.**

8.

John and Sherlock sat in the living room. Sherlock was still offended because John had accepted Mycroft request. He had withdrawn into his mind palace palace. It wasn't long before both heard Mrs Hudson's voice filled with panic calling for them. John jumped up and ran out of the room, Sherlock did not follow him at first.

„Mrs Hudson what is ...?", he heard John asking breaking the sentence and then hurried clearly down the steps.

„For God's sake! Since when has she been here?", called the doctor to the landlady.

„She just stumbled through the door!", Mrs Hudson's voice whimpered.

Sherlock became curious and got up from his armchair following the voices to the front door. He was surprised about what he found there: John and Mrs Hudson knelt over Isabel Williams who was lying with an injury on the ground.

Sherlock stepped closer, while John turned Isabel on the back so that he was able to have a better look at the injury.

„Can you hear me, Isabel? I must have a look at your wound and in addition I must pull up your shirt a little.", John warned the young woman and she nodded slowly.

Sherlock stepped closer and saw the bleeding bullet wound below the right side of Isabel's ribcage.

„Damn! The bullet is still inside of her.", John stated.

„I suppose it is stuck under her right lower rib. The question is whether it has hit one of her organs.", said Sherlock drily.

„We have no time to take her to a hospital. If the bullet remains inside of her I cannot stop the bleeding or she could get an infection during the next days. Now you two will do exactly as I say: Mrs Hudson go to your kitchen and clear the culinary table and put on one of your white sheets and spray them with this hygiene spray that they have in the kitchen. Sherlock you stay with Miss Williams and watch after her. Under no circumstances let her fall asleep! ", John instructed both and jumped up.

„You want to operate in my kitchen?!", asked Mrs Hudson shrill.

„I have no choice! My room is too small and Sherlocks living room is clearly too messy. Until we have tidied up that chaos Miss Williams will have bled to death!", explained John and jumped up. Mrs Hudson nodded and went to her kitchen.

„John, I am not the right person...", Sherlock wanted to argue, John glared at him.

„Just do it Sherlock! For god's sake!", the doctor recalled nearly furiously.

Sherlock stared one more moment down at the young woman, before he sat down beside her.

„You have broken your back with this one, Isabel.", he said and looked down at her.

Isabel had closed her eyes and directed her head in his direction, before she looked at him: „Bite me...", she gasped.

„Not my area, Miss", he answered drily.

Both looked each other exactly in the eyes: his icy blue hit her warm brown.

„Wouldn't it please you to let me die here?", she coughed.

„On Mrs Hudson's floor? Why should I do that? Then I could also pass you over to Moran's men.", he shrugged.

„Knock yourself out...", whispered Isabel.

Surprised he looked at her: „You have a propensity to extremely danderous stupidities."

„I have a lot of free time...", she pressed out.

„You should spend it in another way. In my view the bullet has injured merely your spleen a little, indeed, probably not bad enough to cut it out. One of your ribs is presumably broken. I hope you have no internal bleeding, you already lost an amount of blood. Mrs Hudson's carpet is ruined.", grinned Sherlock.

Just when Isabel wanted to answer John hurried down the stairs, carrying a bag with him and Mrs. Hudson came from the kitchen.

„Okay I am ready.", said John and disappeared in the kitchen.

Mrs Hudson stood there and stared at the floor: „Goodness gracious, how should I clean this? The carpet is completely ruined.", she murmured and Sherlock grinned.

„The carpet was frightfully ugly, without it the hall looks much better."

„Sherlock! Carry Miss Williams to the kitchen.", John called before the old lady could express her outrage.

Isabel heard how Sherlock wheezed beside her and leant over to lift her up in his arms.

„Don't touch me!", said Isabel weakly.

„Believe me, far be it for me to touch you but if you walk it'll only make your injury worser.", he answered as he lifted her up.

She struggled a little, but gave it up because her protest was simply too exhausting.

Her head fell against his chest. It felt better than she had expected. He carried her carefully, paid attention with every step he made not to shake her thoroughly and to cause even more pain.

It did not last long until he placed her on a hard subsoil and John Watson bent over. With a lamp he checked the reaction of her pupils.

„You are weak.", he told to her.

„Well, that's a first...", Isabel whispered back.

John looked at Sherlock surprised: „Miss Williams does not want to spare herself. She has just insulted me when we were in the hall."

„Maybe you should stop acting like a total git..." Watson sighed and turned his back to Isabel.

„What do you plan to do with me?", Isabel asked him quietly.

He turned around to her: „I have to remove the bullet surgically and try to subserve your injuries. I need to give you something for the pains and a sleeping drug, so that you feel nothing."

„No drugs! Please!", she whimpered on the table and tried to get up, but two strong hands gripped her shoulders: „John knows what he's doing, we will help you but you have to trust us.", said the deep baritone voice of Sherlock Holmes. It calmed her immediately.

Izzie had problems to concentrate and she had to cough. Suddenly she tasted blood in her mouth, turned to her side and spitted it on the floor.

„We shouldn't lose more time. I promise you that neither I nor Mr. Holmes will touch you any more than necessary. Please Miss Williams, I do not want you to die on this culinary table.", Watson's voice begged.

In Isabel's eyes tears gathered, on the one hand from the coughing and, on the other hand, it were tears of desperation.

Finally, she nodded to John and avoided his eyes afterwards.

„Sherlock take her hand...", John requested his friend, while he filled a syringe for the anaesthesia.

„John, my hand will not help her.", he agreed callously in response.

„To hell Sherlock! Just do it!", John growled him.

Suddenly Isabel felt how a few slender fingers enclosed her right hand in a firm clutch.

Even before she could react, she felt a puncture in her vein on her left arm.

The room started to become blurred and the pain subsided.

It wasn't long before Izzie was consumed by darkness.

John observed her while he disinfected his hands. Then Sherlock helped him to slip on a pair of elastic gloves.

Together they took off her the jacket and her tattered shirt, so that Isabel was laying only in her bra and jeans on the table. Her belly was completely blood-smeared.

Afterwards John reached for a scalpel.

The removing of the bullet went faster than both had expected.

„Have a look.", John said and Sherlock bent forward.

„Calibre .38 special. Custom-built model. A gift from Moriarty I guess. It is from Sebastian Moran's weapon.", Sherlock smiled.

„She was lucky, he could have killed her.", said John when he started to sew up the wound.

Sherlock walked over to Izzie's upper part of her body. In his mind palace he saved and listed every scar he saw on her chest and her belly, also on her upper arms. He remembered the flash drive that she had hidden in her bra.

Before John could see it Sherlock picked the flash drive up gingerly from her bra without touching her more than necessary.

He said nothing, but at some point he would need to talk to her.

In the end he helped John, to put on a pressure bandage on Isabel and Sherlock discovered the small tattoo that John didn't notice. He left the kitchen briefly and returned after a little while with a grey shirt that they pulled over her body.

„Let's take her to your room.", John suggested.

„Why in mines?", Sherlock's forehead wrinkled, in distate.

„Because I have treated her and now it's your turn. You do not sleep anyway, you are on a case aren't you?", he answered before he injected Isabel with an antibiotic.

„But I need my room!", grumbled Sherlock.

„You are in your armchair in the sitting room most of the time! I cutted out a bullet from her belly, you selfish tramp! We must make it her as comfortable as possible and your bed is simply the bigger one. Moreover, I'd love to get some little sleep.", John stared at him.

„How do you know that my bed is the bigger one?."

„Sherlock I beg you... do we really need to have this conversation? Can we just put her in your bed? We cannot put her on the street. You're a real jerk sometimes.", John encouraged him.

Sherlock briefly shook his head before he carried the young woman from the room.

„I'll look after her later , but now I will tidy Mrs Hudson's kitchen first otherwise the woman immediately gets a heart attack.", John grinned contently. It did its occupation to him well once to be able to exercise.

In the hall Sherlock met Mrs Hudson: „How is she?"

„Well enough to occupy my room.", he agreed in response.

„Sherlock! She is injured!", Mrs. Hudson squeaked.

„Yes, I hope her ego is going to recover soon.", he fired back.

„Young man, you can't talk like that about a lady who is not able to defend herself!", the landlady told him as he carried Isabel up the stairs.

„You could make me a tea, this would be more helpful!"

„I am not your housekeeper!", with that Mrs Hudson disappeared into her sitting room.

In his room he laid the unconscious Isabel on his bed and covered her with a blanket.

For a while he stared at the young woman who lay there exhausted and sleeping.

She was pale because of the loss of blood.

He sat down in a chair and did not leave her out of his sight. Soon he noted her heavy breathing and the sweat on her forehead.

For John and Sherlock began an uneasy night in which they were occupied with lowering the fever and it was in their knowledge that the next days would be a challenge.

As Isabel awoke the first thing she heard was the rain outdoors. The raindrops hit against the windowpane on her right. Slowly, with closed eyes she tried to find out where she was: her body lay under a duvet on a mattress. The sheets smelt pleasant and kept her warm. The smell was pleasant but she could not put her finger on what it was: warm, soft and she felt like she could smell the breath of a man's perfume or aftershave in it.

There was even more: her body felt different. It was braced and hurt.

She opened her eyes and took a moment to get used to the dim light in the room. It was set up functionally: no big decoration except a poster of the periodic table on the wall. There stood a chest of drawers, a wardrobe a chair, and as well a bedside table.

Carefully Isabel sat up and felt the bandage that lay tight around her waist and also a light pain. Her jacket and her shoes lay on the chair like her jeans.

Slowly she cleared her thoughts: she still had to be in Baker Street.

„Shit...", she whispered and moved further on the edge of the bed.

The shirt she wore was not hers. It was far too big and presumably it belonged either to Holmes or to Watson.

She had to get out of here as fast as possible. Presently she collected herself to her breast to feel whether the embroidering still there was and was not disappointed.

Isabel got up while in pains and put her trousers on. Then she slipped in her shoes, took the jacket and grabbed her bag.

Then she staggered into the hall and tiptoed down the stairs. She had to hang on with both hands to the railing to prevent falling down the stairs.

Finally, she reached hall with the front door.

A bucket with cleaning utensil stood in the corner and the carpet on which she had broken down on had disappeared.

Isabel did not linger and shot to the front door. She still felt a little muzzy, but she hoped that the fresh air would take care of that.

Right at the moment when she wanted to press just the handle to leave there were steps, which hurried down the stair and were now right behind her.

„Oh no! You go nowhere!", it was the voice of John Watson.

„Let me go!", Isabel whimpered as her legs gave away and she was caught by Watson's arms.

„No! I have spent the last three days with keeping you alive and in this state you are an easy prey on the streets of London! You are feverish and you have freshly sewn belly wound! I'll make sure you'll be tucked into bed", he explained to her as he entangled his arm around her shoulders and supported her up the stairs.

„What do you want from me?", Isabel asked him dizzy when they returned to the room and helped her to sit on the edge of the bed.

„I want you to be reasonable and to rest! It doesn't help any of us if you break down with a reopened wound . Moreover, you are feverish!", John helped her out of the jacket and took off her shoes.

When his hand tried to unbuckle her belt she winced and turned away herself from him.

„Everything is alright, I'll keep my hands off of you.", he lifted his hands reassuringly and Isabel looked at him in surprise.

„Do me a favour and do not touch me...", she whispered.

„It's okay, I promise you not to touch you if it is not necessary, but in return you have to promise me that you stay in bed and rest. You need to recover, you have lost a large amount of blood.", he gave her her space.

„What is about Moran's men?", Isabel asked him as she pulled off her jeans and lay down on the mattress.

„Let that be our concern. Are you in pain?", John wanted to know how Isabel laid a hand on her wound.

„What do you think?", Isabel hissed.

„I believe you are the most difficult patient I've ever had. Try to sleep, more morphine and I fear you'll become addicted.", he smiled and gave her the blanket.

„Is this your room?"

„No, Miss Williams. The room belongs to Sherlock. He has left it to you under protest.", John answered and saw how Isabel snuggled up under the blanket.

„Tell him I'll be gone in a few days and then he can have his _cell_ back.", Isabel murmured when the doctor wanted to leave

„Tell him yourself when you are better.", the blond man smiled at her friendly. No matter how much Isabel tried to defend herself, she felt safe and knew that nothing would happen to her.

„Dr. Watson?". Isabel stopped him as John started to move to exit.

„Yes?", he looked back at her.

„If Moriarty's or Moran's men find me here you and Mr Holmes will be in difficulties.", she said quietly.

„Don't worry, I'll be sure we can handle that.", he smiled at her.

„I maybe don't like Mr. Holmes that much but please tell him and your landlady that I am grateful. I believe I have scared the hell out of her.", Isabel's cheeks turned red.

„Don't panic, I will pass it to them and now sleep. Do it for yourself.", he demanded of her and she nodded as she lay back in the cushions.

It did not last long until Izzie lost her consciousness again.

John was surprised of the fact that Sherlock leant against the wall towards the door and looked at John.

„She wanted to run.", he found out drily.

„Yes, I have retained her at the door.", nodded John.

„How is she?", asked Sherlock further.

„She is still feverish. I fear that the stiches will burst with her next escape attempt and she could bleed to death.", he found out anxiously.

„Don't worry, the front door was locked.", grinned the Detective.

„Excuse me?", John pulled up his eyebrows.

Sherlock dragged his key from his pocket: „When she was dressing up, I went downstairs and locked the door. The morphine seems to distort her perception a little."

„Couldn't you have told me that before I hurried down the stairs?", John sighed shaking his head.

„Then you would have demanded that I take her back to bed and I have dragged her around enough since three days ago.", Sherlock shrugged.

„She wasn't able to walk by herself! How did you even know that Miss Williams wanted to run? I mean except that you were watching her dress without her even knowing...", answered John grinning.

„I have merely checked on her. Women..."

„Are not your area. I know.", John laughed.

„Right."

„So how did you know?", he further asked.

„Isn't it obvious? Her shoes. ", said Sherlock confused, as if his response would have been clearly recognizable.

„Her shoes?", John eyebrows rose.

„Old, worn-out, a little bit broken. Shoes of a runner. She stays nowhere for a long time, not even if she is with Eric Winters. Moreover, Moran and his men were after her and I suppose, she would love to make sure the data stays in a safe place. What concerns this subject, there I have to disappoint the young lady...", Sherlock dragged the flash drive grinning from his trouser pocket.

„Wait, you nicked the data from her?", John asked him.

„She hid it during our last conversation and wasn't afraid to show me where. I've taken it in preservation.", Sherlock giggled like a schoolboy.

„While I had her in surgery you had nothing better to do then stealing from her?!", his friend stared at him and seemed to be shocked.

„One can steal nothing that is already stolen. This would not be logical.", Sherlock did not understand why John was so shattered.

„Where did she have it?"

„In her underwear.", laughed Sherlock and pushed himself of the wall.

„Sherlock!", shouted John indignant.


	9. Chapter 9

**And now here is chapter 9, please read and review.**

**Special thanks to my beta daisherz365 and morbidydefault for her support. Thank you both a lot :)**

**Now on to the chapter :) **

**Disclaimer: Nothing except the characters I created is mine **

9.

Isabel spent the next days in bed. She slept a lot and cured her fever. Now and again John Watson looked after her, gave her meds against pain or controlled the bandages which lay around her waist.

If the bandages needed to be changed Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, was with them in the room, to make sure she felt safe.

It did not take her long to trust the blonde man with the friendly smile . He handled her carefully, even when he controlled the stitches.

His hands did not touch her more than necessary and Isabel was grateful for it.

Sherlock Holmes did not seem to care about her presence in the flat.

Isabel did not know that he nearly every night when she slept stood in front of his room and stared at the door. He wanted to make sure, that she did not run away or gave this idea a second try.

Not that she was a trapped, but all of them did not need any more attention from Moran and Watson prefered to keep an eye on his patient.

Just now Isabel sat on the edge of the bed, her shirt had pushed up and with her arms holding the rest of the shirt to keep it from rucking up more. Her legs were in her jeans, which Mrs Hudson had washed. John Watson stood before her with dressing material and had removed the old one to check on her scar.

Isabel felt that he went forward extremely carefully.

„You enjoy this, right?", Isabel asked him as John controlled the wound and applied an ointment on the place. Over his hands he wore elastic gloves.

„What do you mean?", he asked back.

„I mean treating me as a patient.", she continued.

„This is my job, of course I am glad if I can practice it.", John laid the ointment on the bedside table and put it on the sewn up area before he wrapped a new bandage around her waist.

„I understand this, but why don't you work in your job?", she was curious. John looked her in the eyes.

„You know what kind of a relation Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty have?"

„Of course. Moriarty hates him and would love to present his head on a stake right at the towerbridge.", said Isabel fast as she dragged the shirt over her belly.

„Miss Williams, you have met Sherlock. He is clever and he knows everything. Moriarty is very similar to him and both endure the thought only moderately. He has already tried to kill us, but somebody interfered with his plans. Since he is prime minister, he is content to harass Sherlock. Started with the fact that in the beginning no more taxis wanted to pick him up and later weren't allowed to. Another fact is that he must stay in the house and who knows what Moriarty comes up with next. Thereby I am one of Sherlock's few friends and I am his flatmate. Moriarty also punishes me. I have an employment ban, Miss William. I'm not allowed to work.", explained John to her. He sighed and started to clear up.

„I am so sorry, Dr. Watson.", she lowered her look.

„It is not your fault. The last five years have changed our lives.", he took off the gloves and threw them together with the other rubbish in a garbage can.

„You are right.", she nodded.

„Why have you done it?", John could not resist the question. Her act of rebellion had impressed him a lot.

„Why have I done what?", Isabel acted as if she did not understand him.

„You know what I mean. Why is the stolen data of such a great importance to you?", he wanted to know.

„I would like to know what has happened to my parents and I do not want to run away anymore.", she answered after a short moment of reflection.

„I get it...", the doctor nodded to her.

„I don't think you do...", Isabel shook her head.

„What does it change for you if you know what happened to them?"

„It is not only about me. There are so many people out there who have lost someone and who want to know what happened to their loved ones. It would let me sleep better if I knew what has happened. Others also deserve this luck.", she further explained to him.

„You want to avenge you parents?", John seemed to be confused, as if he could not believe what she said to him.

„Dr. Watson, how could I take revenge on the prime minister and his right hand?", Isabel crossed the arms in front of her chest.

„Maybe if you decide to make the data public.", John announced.

Isabel smiled at him: „This does not cause the death of James Moriarty."

„This is a dangerous game to play."

„Not more dangerous than leaving the house when you're forbidden and hunt down criminals like me. ", Isabel grinned at him cheeky.

The doctor sighed.

Both did not say a word for moment until John asked her: „Why did you come to us for help?"

„Because you are both single.", she said sarcastically.

John rolled his eyes.

Isabel answered: „I came here because I needed help and I don't think that you will throw me to Moran and his pack."

„And you are sure about that, Miss Williams?", asked a second voice from the doorframe.

„Not you again...", Isabel murmured when she shifted her gaze to the door, he startled her. Sherlock pushed off the frame and Isabel scrutinised him in his purple shirt for a short moment, before she turned away from him.

„Do you sleep well in _my_ bed, Miss William? ", Sherlock stepped in the room.

Isabels hands supported her at the edge of the bed: „Heavenly, as long as you are not in it!"

„Of that I am sure and no worry, I have no intention in sharing a bed with you!"

„What a pity. What do you want?", she growled back.

„I want my room and my bed back!", he answered.

„Sherlock...", reminded John his friend.

„What? She occupied it during the last three days and it must have been really comfortable and I think Mrs. Hudsons guest room is also a nice place to stay!", he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

It was as if someone had pulled Isabel under a cold shower and she felt like awakening from a slumber.

„Who do you think you are and do you listen to yourself while you are talking?", hissed Isabel while staggering on her feet.

„I can tell he does not listen to himself, I can assure you.", John interposed.

„You want to know who I am? We should have discussed this the last time in detail, but how would it be if we clear up who you are.", he grinned at her and got closer.

„I do not think that this is necessary!", Isabel cried desperately stepped from one leg and to the other and trying not to tip over.

„Oh I do think it is. You are Christopher William's daughter, in your early twenties and on the run from Moran and Moriarty.", he began and John realized his friend was on the way to adopt the wrong tone.

„Sherlock leave it!"

„Oh please let him do what he has to, I'll manage him.", noted Isabel sarcastically and layed her hand on her injury.

„Let's talk about the things you wouldn't tell us voluntarily."

„Excuse me I'm not in the mood to share my dirty, little secrets with you !", she stepped away from him when he took a step closer.

„Sherlock, can we adjourn this please? She should spare herself and a quarrel with you is not exactly what I as her doctor understand when I say spare ", John interfered.

„But my dear John, I only want to bring us on the same level of knowledge. So Miss William or I may call you Isabel?"

„It's Miss Williams for you, but Doctor Watson , you may call me with pleasure Isabel or Izzie, which ever you feel with.", Isabel turned around smiling at John and winked at him.

„Then for you John, Isabel.", he returned.

„Flatteries are dull.", Sherlock commented on the verbal exchange.

„No envy please because you and your friend are not on the same level yet."

„Oh this is no envy, such processes simply bore me.", he twitched his shoulders.

Isabel had to concentrate herself not to sit back down on the mattress. Her side hurt and brought her to stagger.

„Mr Holmes say what you have to say.", she requested the man with the black curls and prepared herself for the worst.

„I do not need your permission for my deductions. Daughter of an opposition member. You were never customised, not even at times where your parents would have wished for it."

„Wow, for these informations you could have saved yourself the trouble.", she yawned and played bored.

„You are a fighter, which is why they treated you at the comunity home with extreme hardness. Moriarty knows exactly how to make people dance after his tune, but you are not the type for this. Have you seen her body John when you had her in surgery? You have seen the scars, not every of course, but a part of them. They tried to break her, but they couldn't. Concerning her stay I can say: you were in Moriarty's youth education programme and this has nothing to do with education. When was the first time you were raped? Right on the first evening or on the next day?", his blue eyes looked at her directly.

„Excuse me!?", it burst out of Izzie and John beside her couldn't close his mouth.

„Sherlock, leave it please!", growled John.

„Come on John, you have seen it like I have. We all know the rumours, that Moran and the woman sell the girls to the highest bidder and our Miss Williams here, is one of these girls. ", Sherlock continued and caused Isabel to wince.

„You have no proof for your assumption.", growled Isabel.

„You are trembling and have the arms crossed, your breathing rate has clearly increased and this is a safe sign for the fact that I am tracing your dirty, little secret and you are wrong: there is a proof.", triumphing he still got closer.

„Oh really? Then enlighten me, please!", Izzie requested him.

„Sherlock I beg you, don't cross the line!", John wanted to detain him.

„You know me, John, I can be so curious. You have also seen it, right?"

„What have I seen?", asked of the Doctor.

„Your small souvenir from the Cathouse. That's what they call it, am I right Miss Williams?", Sherlock grinned at Isabel.

„What small souvenir?", the doctor really seemed to have no idea what his friend meant.

Isabel knew it: Sherlock had spotted the tattoo on her back!

He was close to her, too close.

Even before Izzie could react, Holmes pulled her to him, while he firmly tied an arm around her waist and shoved her shirt up on her back, so that John Watson could have a look at it.

„Look, John! Do you see it? Number 3783! A tattoo for slaves!", he shouted triumphing.

Isabel broke loose: „Bastard!", she shouted at him and tried to order her shirt.

„She probably does not agree with the truth.", Sherlock said to John who looked at him furiously.

„A tattoo for slaves?"

„Oh yes,that's how it's called on the street. Nevertheless, it is nothing else than slavery or do you want to correct me Miss Williams? She is one of Irene Adler's _kittens_. Not many get this dubious honour. We do know that Miss Williams was not very cooperative concerning her reeducation which explains some of the scars on her body. Miss Williams was nothing more than a toys for men of the upper class. How is the familiar expression?", he withdrew a few steps and looked afterwards at Isabel who snorted furiously.

„Now it is enough!", John wanted to stop him.

„If you touch me once again I'll break your wrists!", she yelled at him and tried to hold back her tears.

„I have met your soft spot. Excellent!", Sherlock grinned at Isabel.

„You have no idea! Do not talk about things you obviously don't understand!", she growled at him further.

„What do I not understand? The tattoo and the scars are unequivocal. One of you 'lovers' seems to have had a slope to extreme violence. Was it Moran or Moriarty or maybe even both together?", he commented on her outbreak.

Isabel turned to him and slapped him.

Surprised Sherlock stared at her and held one of his cheeks during whichJohn nearly applauded. The face of the Detective had a radiant red colour.

„You deserved it.", nodded John and tapped Sherlock on the shoulder. His friend gave him a confused look.

Isabel stood there wheezy, tears stood in her eyes and she couldn't hide them anymore.

„You want to see my scars? No problem! According to Mr Holmes I am nothing more than a whore and, therefore, I should have no problems with losing my clothes!",she yelled at the two of them and wanted to take off her shirt.

„Isabel I understand you, please you do not have to undress...", John wanted to stop her and she paused.

„You are right, my belly is covered from the bandage anyway. You are lucky Sherlock Holmes, today I do not strip for you.", tears dripped from her eyes.

„Are you finished then with your melodramatic performance?", sighed her opponent bored.

„Melodramatic performance?! Do you have any idea how tactless you are?", she was so furious that her voice started to tremble and her hands clenched to fists.

„The truth hurts, right?", Sherlocks mouth contorted into a stroke.

„Which truth? Yours or mine? You are only pissed about the fact that I sleep in your room and soil your sheets."

„Oh you have obviously no idea!",he now answered clearly annoyed.

„No you have no idea! Do you know how it feels, Holmes? Do you have an image of it what it feels like to be touched by men who you abhor more than anything in this world? Who take you like they wanted ignoring if you cry or scream?", Isabel shut resolutely to him and stopped only few centimetres in front of him.

„So sentimental, my love.", he whispered to her.

„Oh right, to the _virgin_ feelings are foreign of any kind.", right now Isabel liked the part she was playing.

„Better that I have an expert here."

„Stop being so arrogant!", he made her incredibly furious.

„Isabel, you must not talk about it. Sherlock has a talent to provoke people and I advise you not to come on it.", said John.

„Are you afraid I could burn my fingers on this ice block?", Isabel asked him and eyed Sherlock in disgust.

„I mean that it makes no difference to him.", answered John quickly.

Sherlock stood there and listened more or less amused to the conversation.

Isabel mulled over a moment and turned herself away briefly, then spontaneously, pulled the shirt over her head and presented her half-naked chest to both men. She was not proud of it, but she had enough of Sherlock Holmes' disparaging behaviour.

John flushed as he saw her, looked at her for a short moment and then turned his look away.

„Don't you like what you see, John?", Isabel wanted to know mockingly.

„You do not need to get undressed only to...", he stuttered. Isabel felt how she exhausted John's feeling of shame.

„Mr Holmes, which my scars do you want to scrutinise first? How about starting with my arms, as a small appetite initiator?", growled Isabel and went over to the detective.

„How you act is extremely stupid.", he agreed laconically in response.

„To tell the truth, I find it very relaxing that you have no sense for my female charms, then we can start here with the necessary seriousness. I reckon that it is first time that a woman undresses for you?", she grinned playfully.

„You have no idea...", murmured John and had to smile. Sherlock threw a reproachful look to him.

Isabel looked at John questioningly, then ignored his remark. Now she stood exactly in front of Sherlock and then raised her left elbow a little and pointed with her finger of her free hand at a long scar on her upper arm: „Here it is from Irene Adler. She hit me because I have interrupted her as she explained to me why I should offer my services to Moran and his men.

There were more slashes for me when I put myself between her and a younger girl. ", she began and took in surprise that the light blue eyes carefully followed her.

Now she bent her arm so that one of her veins was visible: „I was a really bad girl in there.", scarred histoid from punctures, „they immobilise girls like me with drugs. They use a marvellous mix of opiates and other drugs. I am glad that I am still alive,but there are also girls who died. It would nearly also have got me. Something like that happens, by the way, if you rioted and afterwards tried to let off steam against Irene Adler."

From Sherlock came no words, while she could hear John sighing: 'My God',.

With her finger she pointed to her left eyebrow where she had a small place where no hairs grew: „Here that was Moran because I did not want to kiss him. The eye was four days swollen and where we just are, besides...", Isabel pointed at a scar above her right breast: „That was Moriarty because I told him that I refuse to sleep with a crazy psychopath and I would hope to see him pay for his crimes. Then I had bitten him as he wanted to slip his snake tongue into my mouth. As a result he has attacked me with a switchblade and tried to skin my thigh. I'm certain you want to see it.", her hands glided to the zipper of her trousers.

Suddenly she felt a hand on hers: „Now Isabel, it is enough, please. I believe every word you said.", John looked at her with sad eyes and all she could do was trusting him.

Sherlock himself looked a short moment to the ground.

„I don't care how you call it ,Sherlock Holmes, but I am no whore. With none of these men I slept willingly. I have paid my price. Please do me a favour and never make me talk about this again.", she turned to him with a serious expression. Sherlock nodded to her. For a brief moment there was an embarrassing silence.

„May I use your bath?", asked Isabel to John quietly.

„Of course. On the top floor it is the first door on the left.", he nodded

Before Isabel went she layed down a hand on her breast and made the next shocking discovery: the flashdrive had disappeared!

Isabelle turned around: „Where is it?"

„I do not know what you mean.", Sherlock shrugged.

„You know exactly what I mean!", she crunched furiously with her teeth.

„Do I know?", he positioned himself stupidly.

„Give it back!", she became more annoyed.

„Why should I do this? In your current state you could only make even bigger decisions.", his voice sounded nearly disdainful.

„Says the man who fondled me when I was unconcious!"

„I have not fondled you. I only relieved you a concernment", Sherlock seemed to be bored.

„Oh of course. Return it! It is enough when I am in trouble!", demanded Isabel once more.

Really she wanted none of them to be with her in this conflict and it did not matter how much she wanted to pin Holmes arse to the wall.

„Believe me, even if your name was trouble you would not get the data back. We have fetched, by the way, your belongings from Mr. Winters and I think you will remain, for a while in 221B which I regret. Mrs Hudson was so kind to prepare the guest-room.", ascertained Holmes and went to pass her.

„Are kidding me?", she shouted and stood in his way.

„Oh not in the slightest. Outside you cause too much chaos.", his voice sounded deeper than normal.

„I cause chaos? This town sinks into chaos, Mr. Holmes! This is the state that none of us can escape and, besides, I cannot watch it anymore.", Isabel defended herself.

„Resign yourself with the idea that as long as Moriarty controls this country nothing will change.", he commented irritatedly.

„There are people disappearing everyday!", Isabel expressed her outrage. It could not be that he didn't care!

„You should rest Isabel and we continue this conversation next time", John wanted to interrupt them.

„Haven't you lost anybody? Nobody who was important to you?", asked Isabel Sherlock now clearly desperate.

It was out of sudden but it seemed like there was something moving in Sherlock. He briefly avoided her look and inhaled sharply.

„There was somebody who was important and he or she has disappeared.", Isabel found out.

„You know nothing at all!", he suddenly rumbled.

„What do I not know? Please tell me!"

„It's none of your concern!", it came back stroppy.

„You may follow my past with Irene Adler, but play the sensitive here?!", Isabel believed she would burst at any minute.

„I call merely respect!", Sherlock crossed in front of his chest.

„You can not even spell the word!", she shook her head.

„Back down or other wise I will...", he took a breath for the counterblow as the door was opened and Mrs Husdson came in.

„I have made some tea my dears, would you like to have a cup?", asked the old lady happily.

„No!", answered Sherlock and Isabel in the same breath.

„Mrs. Hudson it is just unfavorable. The two must sort out their childish differences.", said John giggling.

„These are no childish differences, I only want Mr. Holmes to understand that I am no desultory terrorist!", stated Isabel quickly.

„John, please align Miss William. Remind her that I don't think of her as a terrorist but an activist! Moreover, I refuse to tolerate that she talks about my manners. When required I walk with pleasure, and then she can play hide and seek with Moran and his men as long as it pleases her !", growled the Detective back.

„Do I really have to separate you like two quarrelling children on the playground?", John asked both and they looked at him reproachfully.

„If you tell him no woman wants to be fondled when she can't defense herself! Very well, I do not talk with you and you not with me, and if my injury has healed I'll be out of here and believe me I'll take the data with me!", whispered Isabel.

„We will see!", grinned her opponent before sweeping past Mrs Hudson.

Before he disappeared through the door he grinned at Isabel once again: „We will see who has the bigger perseverance. If you want the data you'll have to come and get it yourself. This could become a tightrope act for you. I wish you good luck!"

Furiously she looked at him as he disappeared.

„He wants to play mind games with me? With pleasure I look forward to it. It begs the question who has the bigger stamina.", murmured Isabel when he was away.

John kept a hand before his mouth and stared embarrassed to the ground: the next time with Isabel and Sherlock living under one roof would presumably rob him of his last nerve.

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